After Hours Shenanigans
by Scarred DNA
Summary: Ménage à trois. L/Light. Light/L. L/Light/X. An intimate look at their secret Freaktivity. Rated M and I'm SO not kidding this time. All downhill and explicit from Chapter 9 on. CANCELLED.
1. God or Bitch

**Want to skip to sex?**

_Chapter _**2**_ - L and Light only_

_Chapter _**9 **_and _**10**_ - Three person sex._

_Chapter _**11**_ - Light and L only._

* * *

_I don't own Death Note, and it's a damn good thing I don't._

_

* * *

_

**Inspiring tunes in profile:**

_It's No Good_

_Tainted Love (Remix)_

* * *

**God or Bitch?**

_Equality. _True, honest-to-goodness equality. Not that phony bullshit engendered from test scores, or money, or looks, or career success, or whatever the fuck else people could circle-jerk around.

* * *

Light fell forward, his overheated body collapsing onto damp, pale skin.

"That . . . was amazing." he panted into L's throat before nuzzling against the warm flesh. He inhaled deeply, the combination of L's aroused _male _scent and his own raw nerves making him dizzy. Their coupling always had that effect on him – sometimes to the point where he couldn't even remember his own name for a brief moment in time.

With elongated fingers at Light's slender hips, L rocked the boy forward in an effort to separate their bodies. Light obliged, raising himself up and off of the older man to settle on the bed beside him. L's distaste for post-coital lingering didn't bother him in the least – the fact that he was even allowing such an unusual turn of events in the first place made up for any indifferent behavior on the quirky detective's part.

Besides, he knew that L hated to sweat, and the faster he was free of Light's weight, the faster he would air dry. It was perfectly logical, and Light took no offense.

"Light-kun." L stared at the ceiling with uninterested eyes, his hands lying on either side of him listlessly. The warning in his husky voice was the only indication that he was annoyed, or alive.

Light had forgotten. He always forgot . . . how was he expected to perform clean up duty when he couldn't even string together a coherent sentence?

"Sorry," he mumbled sincerely before reaching a jittery hand out toward L's torso. "I would have gotten to it eventually." Light swiped his hand across silken skin in one deliberate motion, effectively removing most of the spatters of pearl that almost matched the color of L's stomach. Rising to a sitting position, Light found his shirt at the foot of the bed and cleaned his hand. Turning the material to find a clean corner, he then worked at getting what had found its way into L's navel.

"It would have become sticky and dry by then." One hand lazily moved downward to pull back the skin around his length, indicating he wanted _that_ wiped off too.

Light gratified the request, encircling glistening pink with the sleeve of his black shirt. Unlike himself, L was still firm beneath his touch.

That was the thing about L . . . he was an all or nothing kind of guy. And Light supposed that was what he liked about him. There wasn't anything half-assed or so-so about him. Much like those action potentials in the brain that he'd learned about in biology; once L got started, there was no stopping that inevitable firing. If he was going to do something, he was going to do it whole-heartedly . . . all the way. There was no dimmer control, or knob that could be turned gradually. There was only a switch, and it was either on, or it was off, and that was it.

And apparently, his physical body was the same way, harboring the same precision as that magnificent brain of his. He was either hard, or he wasn't. There was no in-between. And just as an action potential worked, L could fire more than once before returning to a resting position.

Although, Light suspected that his ability to do so had more to do with mechanics than anything else. It was odd, that such size would manifest itself in someone who was otherwise so thin and bony. Not that he was complaining . . . no, no, _no_.

It was just that – Light was 100 percent Japanese, and L was only a quarter Asian. He got the 'short end of the stick' so to speak, and it took him no time at all to 'relax'. While L, on the other hand, took much longer. He gave the object of his current fascination a little squeeze before removing his hand. The bigger they are . . .

Light smacked his teeth quietly, discarding the shirt over the edge of the bed and to the floor. "You're such a woman about it sometimes."

L's eyes slid from their analysis of the ceiling to the corners of their sockets, regarding Light in a dispassionate stare that his head soon followed.

"I'm not the woman currently occupying this bed." He gave his foreskin a little two-fingered push back into position before dropping his hand back to his side.

"Neither am I." Light replied dryly.

L sighed, his eyes slowly returning to nothing above him. "That's true. _Bitch_ would be the more appropriate term."

Light fell back against the mattress dramatically. "I think, Ryuzaki, that since I'm the only one here who's been with a woman, I'm automatically disqualified from being your bitch."

"Is that so?" L asked in that soft monotone of his, sounding faraway. "Maybe that's something I should rectify." He spoke more to himself than Light.

Light turned his head to his right, staring at the side of L's face with surprise. Knowing L, he would have no qualms about taking himself out to the street to find the first female that caught his eye, just so he could 'even the odds' between them. Now that, Light thought smugly, would be something to behold.

"I can feel your stare, Light-kun. You have something to say on the matter?"

Light turned onto his side, and propped his head up with one hand as if L were paying any visual attention to him. "I was just thinking . . . that might be something I'd like to see."

L's head snapped towards him, the tiniest bit of surprise in his eyes that only Light could detect. "You'd want to watch?"

Light shrugged indifferently. "At the risk of losing . . . whatever this is we are playing at, sure."

"Why would such a thing have an affect on our current situation?" L asked curiously.

"Why wouldn't it? I've been there, so I know what I'm missing. You haven't." Light watched as L's tongue darted from his mouth to wet his lips, the action bothering his piece of mind just a little too much.

"Meaning, I could discover that I fancy women?" L looked passed Light in thought. "Even if that were the case, the percentage of such a realization putting an end to this is extremely low, I think."

"But you aren't sure?" Light pressed, counting L's ribs with a fingertip.

"No. I'm not afraid to tell you, Light-kun, that I have trouble telling what's what when it comes to you." L's eyes focused onto Light again. "However, instead of avoiding that scenario simply out of fear of what will happen, I think it best to test it now instead of later."

"Just in case you find our liaison no longer viable." Light finished for him, half admiring and half hating the cold rationality L displayed sometimes.

"Yes."

Amazing that his voice could remain devoid of emotion – completely unassuming – as if they were discussing breakfast. Still, he was right. L wasn't one to settle, and Light wasn't one to be settled upon. Getting the matter of L's sexuality out of the way was a prudent decision for both of them, and Light told him so.

Reaching a resting position . . . finally . . . L sat up and turned, swinging long limbs over the edge of the bed. Forcing his upper body to twist by pulling himself left, then right, L's vertebrae made several sharp, _popping_ sounds. By the sound of it, something didn't move right.

L threw a glance at Light over his delicate shoulder. "Would Light-kun mind?"

Again? "On the floor this time?"

"Please."

Light scrambled off the bed as L grabbed the top sheet and spread it across the carpet on the right side of the bed. L lowered himself prone onto the sheet, taking a moment to situate his length in a comfortable position before spreading his arms out.

"Ready?" Light asked in a cheerful voice, standing over the lithe form that was his lover. At L's vocal affirmative, Light moved one foot to balance on L's lower back, and then the other. "Good?"

"Yes." L's response came out in a whoosh of breath as Light's weight pushed his diaphragm against the unforgiving floor. Moving slowly, Light walked up the jagged bridge of hollow bone, the sound of air being crushed out in more loud _pops_. The first time he'd done this, Light had been quite surprised to discover that L's spine was rather flexible, and straightened out quite easily.

The first time he'd done this was what had ended up putting them in the very situation they were in now. It felt like so long ago, when really it was only a few weeks. It had been right after he'd been released from confinement, and ordered to remain with the detective 24 hours a day. He'd happened to catch L lying on the floor one night, beside the bed that only Light slept in, trying his damnest to stretch his spine out as far as it would go.

Light almost laughed as he put all his weight on one particular spot, below the neck, that he knew L liked to have cracked.

He'd decided to get out of bed and help the poor man by walking on his back. L had been apprehensive at first, having never heard of such a thing. But once Light had gotten started, L had become quite enamored with the technique.

Then he'd hit that same spot he was working on now, and it had all gone downhill from there. Quite literally. Light had lost his balance – he'd slipped on the unfamiliar angles of L's spine – and landed haphazardly with one knee ramming into L's coccyx bone.

Light had never heard the detective express pain before – but L had _howled_ that night, a high-pitched hoarse sound, right before bucking Light clean off of him. Apparently, the impact had pressed L's paralleling front against the floor, which was something he hadn't prepared for. Which was why, now, he safeguarded himself against a reoccurrence of that pain before laying down.

That was the beauty of L . . . no one ever got the chance to fuck him twice. He learned from all of his mistakes, and he did not _ever_ forget.

And neither did Light, who'd been in his own hell of pain from landing on L's sharp hip at the wrong angle. Which was why now, he walked sideways and kept a good hold on the side of the bed. Although with the absence of slippery fabric, the chance of him falling was almost non-existent now.

The rest, Light tried to recall as he elicited more _snaps_, _crackles_, and _pops_, was a haze. Someone had finally managed to regain coherency after several agonizing minutes of laying curled up on the carpet, though Light couldn't remember who was first, and L had ground out a string of rapid English like Light had never heard.

"Are you listening?"

Light paused for a moment, tucking the encounter away to dwell on later. "I'm sorry, I wasn't."

L sighed as best as he could with Light pushing down on him. "Oh well." He turned his head from one way to the other, indicating he was done with Light if he wasn't going to listen.

Light pressed the ball of his foot against the top of L's head in a mock kick, the black mess he called hair tickling him. "Don't be that way, L."

Unexpectedly, L jerked himself around to his back, the quick movement disturbing Light's footing. Thanks to L's hands coming up to catch him, Light managed a halfway graceful landing into sitting astride slender hips.

"Lucky catch." Light gave him a playful smile as he wiggled himself into a comfortable position across the other boy's angles.

"No luck involved, Light-kun." L returned his own tiny smile before lowering his head back to the floor, pulling the ginger-haired teenager with him.

Such intimate attention from L was an extremely rare thing, and Light reveled in it. L always came off as standoffish, and completely immune to any sort of human bonding. Even with someone like Light, who could charm a cocaine addict out of their last line, L would clam right up in a heartbeat if he tried to push too far, or get too close. His way of handling emotion, if he handled it at all, was such that Light found it best to just sit back and wait.

And Light prized that about him. Everyone else he'd ever met was so _easy_; contact with them often left him feeling as though he was the only man in a brothel full of too-eager women, with a clip full of one-hundred dollar bills. He could read and manipulate people so well, that it had ceased to become fun. The result was always the same, and the chase lost a certain _something_ after _so_ many times.

But with L there was no brothel, and Light was flat broke. It was just him and his enigmatic detective, standing on a flat plain in the middle of nowhere with no advantages for either side.

_Equality. _True, honest-to-goodness equality. Not that phony bullshit engendered from test scores, or money, or looks, or career success, or whatever the fuck else people could circle-jerk around. Just pure, unadulterated, _raw_ intellect. An untainted camaraderie between two brilliant minds that fed off one another . . . intoxicated one another. Intellectual stimulation on such a level that Light knew he would probably never come across such a wonder again in his natural life.

So when this creature of myth showed him any kind of affection, Light was damn sure to treasure it as if it were the very air that currently flooded into his lungs. The rest of society might be dim-witted enough to let such a diamond go un-mined, but Light was not. True to his namesake, Light would shine onto the facets of this gem until he illuminated everything there was to see.

For now, though, he was content with examining the current facet being shown to him. And that included, at the moment, those miraculous fingers of his that were busying themselves with learning the feel of Light's thigh muscles.

Leaning forward to rest his chin on arms crossed over L's chest, Light stared lazily at the Adam's Apple within L's throat. "Are you going to tell me what you said earlier?"

"Hmmm?" If it weren't for the fingertips dancing along his thighs, Light would have thought L asleep. "Guess."

"Clue?"

L's stroking of the younger boy's skin paused for a moment. "Does the boy genius _need_ a clue?"

"Fine." That languid caress of his resumed. "We were talking about . . . your sexuality. I said that you being with a female would be something I'd like to see."

"Mmmhmmm."

Light squirmed his way a little closer to the ivory of L's neck. "And you said you believe that it's something that should be tested now. So, I would venture a guess that you were _probably_ asking my thoughts on how to go about such an investigation."

"Perfect, Light-kun. As usual. And?"

Light felt the rumble of L's response more than he heard it. "I was thinking that tomorrow, after sitting around pretending to work all day, we could take a trip to a new club that just opened up and see what we can find."

L's fingers paused again, this time moving from Light's thighs to his back. "Pretending to work?" he inquired softly.

Light gave a little grunt of annoyance. "Get off it, L. The case is cold, and you've done a bunch of nothing since my confinement ended. I can only do so much since you refuse to let me see your case notes."

L made an irritated noise in the back of his throat. "There's only one thing you need to do to solve my case."

"Confess." Blah, blah, blah. How many times were they going to rehash this?

"That is correct. Another of Light-kun's amazing deductions."

Light reared up just enough to see L's face. "Your attempts at humor are deplorable."

L kept his attention on the ceiling above deliberately. "As are your attempts at slipping through my fingers."

Although Light was getting used to L's reversions back to his accusations, he wasn't completely immune to them yet. With his hands on either side of L's head, Light moved himself into L's line of sight to glower at him.

"In case it has escaped your notice, _Ryuzaki_, I'm right here. And 'slipping through your fingers' is not what's happening here." Light waited patiently for dilated black to roll towards him in that frighteningly focused stare he enjoyed trying to decipher. If L had the nerve to say something like that to him, given their current _circumstances_, then he was damn well going to do it while looking him in the eye.

But L had other ideas, and bent his head back even further to look at something non-existent above. His hands followed, reaching over his head. It took Light only a moment to process the action, and he chanced a glance to see what L was doing.

"Wait–"

Too late, Light realized, when the _clinking_ sound of the chain preceded the _snap_ of chilly metal going back around his wrist. Sneaky bastard. If he didn't want a fuss, he should have just asked politely.

L secured the other end of the previously discarded chain to his own wrist. "I apologize, Light-kun. I might fall asleep tonight, and I can't let you run wild."

"Run wild." Light emulated sarcastically, before pushing himself off the detective and to his feet. The bitter sound of captivity accompanied his movements once more, reminding Light of just who they were and why they were here once again.

L followed, moving to hunt down his boxer shorts and put them on. Tossing Light's to him, L kicked the rest of their clothes into a neat little pile next to the bed.

And that was that. Light gave a sigh, and resigned himself to returning the sheet to the bed, and preparing it for sleep.


	2. Slow Like Honey

**Tunes in Profile:**

_Slow Like Honey_

* * *

. . .

* * *

**Slow Like Honey**

The pain wasn't so bad, and he even gave a little smile at the courteous action. It was almost too good for words – the great **L**, washing his . . .

* * *

The familiar sensation of something burning and wet poking his lower back seeped into Light's dream, which he couldn't remember now that he'd opened his eyes. The blurred bright green of the alarm clock currently in his line of sight took a moment to come into focus.

_4:25am_

He'd only been a sleep for a couple of hours, and he felt like it. Squeezing his eyes open and shut a few times, Light cleared the leftovers of sleep from his brain in a vision of strobing dots imposed over darkness.

The hand resting on his shoulder blade came to Light's attention when it exerted a little pressure on him.

"Light-kun?" L's voice barely made it through the silence, it was so quiet.

Light wriggled back against the warm body curled against him, satisfied with the feel of soft skin pressed to his back. Whenever L spooned himself around Light, that meant he wanted something. And that something almost always had something to do with the _pistol_ currently being nudged into Light's back, cocked and ready. At least, that's what Light _hoped_ the detective's reasoning was.

"I'm awake." Light whispered in response, reaching behind him to fondle the trigger of that gun. He felt warm satin against his fingertips for a brief moment before the shackle around his left wrist was jerked upwards harshly, forcing his arm above his head. Looking upward in that same direction, Light could see that L's right hand had the length of the chain wrapped around itself, pulling the highly-reflective metal taut.

Resorting to Plan B, Light tried to twist himself onto his back. But L, ever prepared, was ready for that too, forcing his left thigh in-between Light's own to stay him on his side.

L pushed himself closer to his captive, nuzzling his face through the hair covering Light's ear. "Light-kun should remain still."

That hypnotic rumble of his, coupled with biting teeth at his earlobe, quieted Light's movements immediately. While he didn't particularly like the idea of being restrained, the delicious sensations L was creating in his suddenly submissive body made it tolerable. The peculiar man, _damn him_, had a way about him that could turn Japan's top student into some kind of mindless marionette, begging to have his strings pulled.

The feel of thin fingernails scraping down his skin – his chest, his ribs, his navel – only reinforced that fact, making Light shamefully arch himself against the dark-eyed beauty molesting his young body. There was that spot, in the hollow of his hip, that L took advantage of too often. And there was the way he liked to breath naughty commands in Light's ear, demanding things in a voice that no longer sounded bored or apathetic.

And then, there was that well-hidden, tightly controlled vicious streak of L's that liked to hear Light's stifled cries when nails raked along his arousal, or skeletal fingers grasped unkindly. Something that had scared the _bejesus_ out of Light when he'd first encountered it, but that now only intensified his body's response to the older man's advances.

It was almost funny, that Light would come into this thing with more experience, and somehow end up as though _he_ were the grasshopper. Funny, but not really that surprising. L was a lightning fast learner, and he'd went from awkward and maladroit to capable and in control in record time. Light's creation was complete, but it was beginning to look as though Fuckenstein was turning against him.

L made a satisfied noise in the back of his throat at Light's response before unhanding him, and pushing the boy half on his stomach to rid him of his boxer shorts. Light couldn't see what was happening behind him, and he didn't much care. What was important was what he could feel. And at the moment, that consisted of L's hand spreading him and the sensation of his crown, slick with arousal, teasing Light's puckered flesh.

Instinct and impatience moved Light's hips backward, but L tightened his grip on the teenager's backside to keep him still. Light turned his head the only way he could so that his voice wasn't muffled by the pillow beneath him, and barely managed to free the arm he'd been laying awkwardly on.

"L–"

"Quiet."

The quick command was so unusual, that Light snapped his mouth shut in surprise. Usually, L preferred a moderate amount of begging on Light's part.

He sensed L moving, felt his free hand leave his skin, and heard the tiniest sound that Light knew was L gathering saliva into his closed fist. A trick Light had taught him to make their encounters more . . . mobile, so they didn't have to rely on a synthetic.

Why the hell was he taking his sweet time? Light tugged at the chain still limiting his movement, and L tugged back with much more force, letting Light know that liberty wasn't available.

But now, with the long-awaited feel of the detective pushing himself into him, Light no longer gave a damn about freedom. He got more fulfillment out of yielding to L's passionate dominance over him than he did from anything he'd ever done when he was free. Capricious freedom, the ideal couldn't even begin to compare to this physical rapture of their coupling.

L was moving now, Light's body having adjusted to him. And it occurred to Light, just before he lost his ability to reflect on their union, that maybe nothing would.

With the aid of L's hand on his hip, Light managed to accustom himself to the slow, leisurely rhythm set by this pale paramour of his. This work of art that Light could call his own . . . he was _so_ close. His breath, fervid and warm, Light could feel tickling his neck. The strength of his lean body, deceiving and reassuring, Light was very much aware of in those sure strokes of his. His heart, its beating fast and strong against his back, matched the violent cadence of Light's own.

Straightening his right arm to match the other snagged in the chain, Light's hand crept under the pillow to latch onto the ashen limb above. He found that he could work his fingers between the fragile bone work of L's wrist, and the sharp edges of now warm steel. Tendons tensed and strained beneath his palm, L's pulse hammering against the pad of his thumb. Sharing the constraint of the bracelet encircling his captor's wrist served to ground Light . . . to comfort him in a bizarre, unfathomable way. He tightened his grip until his muscles shook with the effort, his body desperate for the physical contact while his mind began to dissolve.

" . . . _closer_."

Light wasn't altogether sure if the word had escaped from his brain or not. But it must have left his mouth, for the heat of L amplified against him, and there was a searing sensation at his nape. The guiding hand at his hip moved to his thigh, positioning him for better access.

He felt his body start to tighten, and his ability to remain quiet seemed to flutter away. Light knew this feeling, and was a little startled that it would come on so quickly, with this honeyed adagio of all things.

_This_, he thought before rising to meet his glory, _is perfection._

At the first unbridled vocalization of oblivion, L's hand clamped over the boy's mouth to quiet him. His body fared no better – wanting to both stretch and shrink, and unable to do either. Light was left only with that delicious sense of being filled . . . of having something inside him that his muscles could both push away and pull closer as release began to pulsate through him.

Light squeezed his eyes shut at the onslaught of sensation, his body straining against the subdued violence that L forced upon him. He couldn't move . . . his cries only ended up as guttural sounds lodged in his throat . . . and the sudden quickening of the detective's movements against orgasm-induced resistance was becoming almost intolerable.

Until, mercifully, the last of it snapped through him in one final, intense wave.

Jittery and dazed, floating around in that fleeting limbo between bliss and return, Light heard the hushed sounds of his Puppeteer's own release close to his ear. It was always the same – a highly controlled thing of held breath, and then rhythmic, silent sighs. Never a sound from that whispery, mesmerizing voice . . . only shuddering, noiseless exhales.

The pressure of L's hold on him increased, the tips of bony fingers pressing into Light's cheekbone painfully.

He couldn't see, but Light knew very well that wide-eyed constriction of dead black into animated platinum just as the detective lost himself. He knew that almost indiscernible 'O' of passion-swollen lips, that look of intense concentration that almost immediately softened into something Light had no adjectives for.

He'd seen the entire play a total of two times, but he'd memorized the performance the first time he'd been graced with it. Now, he recalled it . . . imagining what was purposefully hidden from him. L did it deliberately - fucking him from behind, covering his eyes if they faced each other, or burying his face in Light's throat and out of sight - and didn't bother to make bones about that fact.

Rarely allowed to be seen, and Light understood why better than anyone. It was a weakness . . . a vulnerability one would do well _not_ to expose to their prime suspect. What he didn't understand was why he'd been permitted to see it at all, instead of hardly ever. A result of mood, maybe. Or something not initially prepared for, but then thought better of.

Noticing the sudden slack given to the chain, Light pulled his hand from under the cuff around L's wrist and relaxed the stressed muscles of his arms. He'd been tired fifteen minutes earlier. Now, he was flat out exhausted. So much so, that he didn't pay the littlest bit of mind to the evidence of release that seeped from him, fast cooling in the night air.

The sound of rustling sheets and the sudden absence of warmth signified L's distancing of himself from the spent boy. He heard the soft rattling of the chain as L moved about, and then he saw the pale-skinned paragon in front of him, walking towards the bathroom. The chain had rotated from behind him to in front of him, and now it pulled tight, stopping the detective short.

Light watched in lazy amusement as L turned around to look at his imprisoned hand, giving the offending thing an annoyed click of his tongue. He pulled at it, resulting in stretching Light's own arm as far as it would go. Light was dead weight, and he wasn't moving an inch. If L wanted to go somewhere, he would have to either carry him or drag him from where he lay on his side, useless.

Apparently realizing this, he saw L claw at the wristlet with determination, working the metal over his gaunt hand until it popped free. He tossed it down as if it were soiled, the action once again rendering Light's arm limp on the sheets in front of him, and shuffled off.

The clatter of metal links hitting the side of the bed was followed momentarily by the rushing of running water. He'd seen no light spill from the adjoining room, and wondered vaguely how it was that L could see in the darkness there. Water ceased, and the ghostly figure materialized in the doorway once again. Light's eyes followed as he walked towards him with a rag in each hand – one dangling from his fingertips and the other enclosed around his lasting erection. He stepped over the chain, and stopped beside the bed to offer his gift.

Light wasn't interested. He was going to sleep now, and that was all.

"Has Light-kun died?"

He probably looked dead. Opening his mouth, Light gave a short _ah_ sound that said _yes, he was dead. _In testament, he let his eyes droop closed.

The sound of terry cloth hitting carpet reached his ears, and then a hand was pushing roughly at his hip, turning him towards his back. Light didn't resist – not even when the too hot cloth was being dragged harshly all over his exposed inner thighs, his stomach, and in-between. The pain wasn't so bad, and he even gave a little smile at the courteous action. It was almost too good for words – the great **L**, washing his–

Light gave a sharp yelp at the pulling of curls around his base, his eyes flying open to glare hatefully at the smug looking face staring back at him.

"I'm sorry."

Bastard wasn't sorry at all. Slapping at L's hand, Light rolled over to his other side in safety. Why couldn't L just let him sleep? Daylight was only a few hours away, and he wanted to get at least some semblance of sleep. The insomniac could stay up all night if he wanted to – good for him – but _this_ genius needed his beauty rest.

Light listened – the creature was still standing there, probably thinking of a way to irritate him further. Well, let him stand there for as long as he wanted. Light was not going to–

He heard the _snap_ a microsecond before he felt the lash burn into the skin of his ass. He jumped in a too late reaction, the pain so excruciating that he couldn't even produce sound.

"Good night, Light-kun."

L tossed the still twisted weapon of mass destruction onto Light's hip, retrieved the key to their handcuffs from the pocket of his discarded jeans, and worked at re-securing the cuff around his wrist.


	3. Evil Twin L

**Tunes in Profile:**

_I Love My Sex_

_Who's Your Daddy?

* * *

_

_**Evil Twin L**_

* * *

Light spit into the sink, watching the pink foam swirl around white-streaked black marble before disappearing down the drain.

"I think I'm going to tell Misa."

"No." L responded with the simple little word from behind the frosted shower door, not needing to ask to what Light referred.

"No?" Light wiped his mouth, waiting for a response that never came. "I don't believe you have a say in the matter, Ryuzaki."

"You're under my observation. I have a say in everything you do, especially when it will interfere with my investigation."

"I care as much about the case as you do, but–"

"Light-kun." There was that tone . . . that dragging of the _kun_ part L used when he was irritated. "Informing Amane, or anyone else, of our activities will only make things more difficult than they need be. I'm well aware of your reasons for objecting, but please endure it."

Light gave a little sigh, and moved to sit down on the straight-backed chair nestled in one corner of the bathroom. The minute he put his weight on the cushion, Light felt a tingling stab of pain shoot up his spine and instantly regretted the action. L's maltreatment of him early this morning had left the frail skin of his backside disfigured with a bright red welt. Standing back up, he stepped over a few feet to the mirror on the wall next to him and turned around. Loosening the towel around his waist, Light inspected the wound.

It didn't look as bad as it felt. Actually, it appeared to be a little less red than he remembered – the skin not as puffed up as it had been either. He'd probably be able to sit on it without a problem by midday.

Turning back around, Light gave the rest of him a thorough once over. He frowned, staring at his lackluster appearance. Captivity was really doing nothing for him. He'd lost weight – enough to notice the more pronounced hollowing of his hips – and his hair looked like hell from lack of regular trimming. His skin had paled just a bit, losing its sun-kissed glow, and his burnt-honey eyes were lacking something. The skin beneath them looked dark and sickly.

Light stepped closer, peering into his face as he secured the towel back around his waist. He looked like . . .

L.

Light recoiled from the mirror, casting it a narrow-eyed side glance as if it had just besmirched his mother's honor. L? Surely it wasn't _that_ bad, was it? He tried imagining his reflection with sable hair and inhuman eyes, and found that it wasn't there yet . . . but he would be soon if he continued unchanged.

The sound of the shower being turned back on tore through the silent, stifling bathroom; indicating L had started his rinse cycle. Honestly, the man showered like a woman. Light was a 5-minute kind of guy. Water on. Wash. Rinse. Water Off. Out. But not L. Oh no. Water on. Get wet. Water off. Lather. Water on. Rinse. Rinse. Rinse. Water off. Out.

And all the while, Light got to sit in a locked bathroom and wait. Not that it wasn't a nice bathroom – it was lavish, and large, and the coloring was pleasant. Like something out of an upper class home. But Light didn't like waiting . . . not when he could already be dressed and ready.

Silence again. _Finally_.

"So, are we going tonight?"

Light turned to the shower door clicking open, posing the question to a pink-faced, soaking wet detective that emerged with a towel at his face. With his hair plastered to his head, looking as though a piece of black silk had been draped over his skull, L looked as though he wasn't even Light's age. While Light assumed that L was older than him, he really didn't know for sure what L's age was. If he had to guess, based on what he saw in front of him now, he'd say between 16 and 18. Of course, Light was almost certain that he was much older.

"I must confess, I've been toying with the idea since you brought it up last night." L spoke into the towel, before reaching up to dry his hair with rapid, jerky movements.

Light looked on, the action causing a myriad of locomotion in palely dressed muscle and bone. Amazing. That such a scrawny body could generate the strength that Light intimately knew the other boy possessed seemed to betray the laws of physics. Much like everything else about the enigmatic detective that seemed to just _not_ add up.

A walking contradiction. An unsolvable equation. A paradox, that is _somehow_ true. Like those stupid pages in books that are supposed to be left blank, but that aren't _really_ blank. Or the number 0.(9) that isn't really _equal_ to 1, but then it is. Nonsense. Ridiculous.

"And the verdict is?" Light asked, diverting his attention to somewhere other than the emaciated nakedness in front of him with effort.

"We can go . . . if you keep your relationship with Amane on good terms."

Figures. L was rarely one to give without getting in return. Light almost felt bad. The girl claimed to be in love with him . . . devoted herself to him. And yet here he was, banging the man responsible for locking them both up for almost two months behind her back.

_Almost_. He planned on being rid of her once this case ended anyway. "Deal."

"Good." L walked past, his hair already starting to form damp clumps.

* * *

As was typical, L and Light found the rest of the Taskforce already in the swing of things in the investigation room. Not like there was a lot to do or anything. Since his release a few weeks ago, there have been no new suspects or leads. Just a great deal of observation in regards to Kira's victims, and enough waiting to drive anyone insane. Almost literally.

In his spare-time, Mogi has adopted a semi-obsessive little idiosyncrasy of categorizing paperwork. Prioritizing and alphabetizing, and even going so far as to re-copy any sheet that looked a little too worn. He became somewhat protective over his files and folders, watching anyone like a hawk who had to retrieve something from his operation going on in one corner of the room.

Matsuda spent his time working as Misa's manager, and making sure to keep himself up to date on the goings on in everyone else's life

Aizawa spent more time with his family, as suggested by L after it became evident that his wife might end up beating him to death.

Light's father also spent more time with his mother and sister – a decision they both thought a good idea given that Light was no longer home.

Misa lived in her room, when she wasn't playing model/actress or harassing Light, and treated it like a vacation. As if the girl's entire life wasn't _already_ a vacation.

Light looked to his left, watching the genius next to him bite cherries off their stems; the sound of the pits being spit back into the bowl in front of him starting to annoy Light a bit.

He and L, on the other hand, didn't pass their time in such a wholesome manner. During the working day, of course, they both played their respective parts of _super sleuth_ and _brilliant suspect_ just as they always had. L still jabbed at him in that passive, roundabout sort of way of his, and Light still retaliated with words of innocence, or attempts at blacking L's eye just a bit more than it already was.

Whether that was for the benefit of the other team members, who remained completely ignorant of their nightly activities, or themselves, Light couldn't determine.

Either way, come the cover of night and it all slipped away. With that falling of black that seemed to affect human beings in a bizarre way; the who, what, why, and how of their human circumstances took a backseat to more primal, animalistic urges.

Funny how humanity could be so fickle. There one minute, guiding man down the path that was right and pure; gone the next, its absence turning a once civilized person into a savage barbarian. Like Quicksilver . . . something inconstant, that couldn't be relied upon. Was mankind still so primal that circumstances determined the occurrence of such base behavior, and not the learned psyche that many believed separated man from animal?

Light stared unseeing at the monitor in front of him, his ears catching another pit striking porcelain.

In the end, did it really matter? People do what they do because they desire to do so. Like himself, for instance, who let L have him for no other reason than because he wanted it, too. There was no great love there . . . nothing so complicated as a heart-wrenching emotion that demanded it. It was a product of circumstance – boredom most likely – and maybe even a little curiosity. Something engendered from that hard-wired instinct, inherent in all living creatures, to mate.

And Light explained his decision to watch L have at some female the same way. He was bored, he was curious, and he _wanted_ to entertain himself with such an extreme act of perversion.

Circumstance. (Too much free-time **plus** restlessness **plus** hormones **plus** nefarious tendencies) **multiplied** by 2 **equaled** wicked things.

* * *

The smell of stale cigarette smoke mixed with potent human pheromone tingled his nostrils. His eardrums didn't fare any better, the sound of the too loud techno music coming from speakers bigger than him sending them into overdrive. Coinciding with the beat of that music were well-placed, multi-colored lights overhead. Moving and changing color in time with the music, their dynamics cut through the dim, hazy atmosphere to bathe everyone and everything in blues, pinks and greens.

Only in the soft amber given off by the small, rice-paper lamps on each table did L find solace from the frenzied ambience of the cabaret.

People were everywhere – crowded at the bar, filling the round tables draped with white cloth, dancing in the back half of the room. L noticed a lounging area set a few steps below ground level in one of the far corners of the club; people were there as well, too busy pursuing gratification on brightly colored sofas to notice anything else.

"What about her?" Light leaned forward to make sure L could hear him over the loud music.

They sat opposite one another at a small, round table with high-backed chairs. L sat normally, the chair being too tall to crouch comfortably in, and remain slumped over the remains of his Chocolate Martini. Running a finger along the bottom of his glass, and around the rim, L made sure to get every last little bit of chocolate sauce and brought the sugary stuff to his lips.

Light took a sip of his own drink, a Crimson Death, before realizing that L wasn't paying attention.

"Ryuzaki!"

L looked up, his angelic face the picture of innocence, just as their waitress returned.

"Two more?" She asked pleasantly, seeming completely in-love with her job.

L pushed his empty glass towards her. "If you wouldn't mind. Extra, _extra_ chocolate in mine please. And a cherry?"

The girl gave him a brilliant smile – one that told him that she thought he was positively adorable. "Absolutely." She took his empty glass and whisked it away.

"What about our server?" L asked Light, watching the girl leave with a lick of his lips.

Light crossed one leg over the other, and straightened his pant legs. "She probably doesn't get off for a while, Ryuzaki."

L gave him a sour look, pursing his lips in a slight pout. A moment later, the girl in question returned with their drinks, and a glass full of cherries for L. Sliding the glass towards himself protectively, L turned his own little smile towards her.

"Excuse me," he pretended to squint at her nametag, as if he hadn't noticed her name the minute he'd seen her. ". . . Rose. What time will you be leaving here tonight?"

_L!_ Light gave his forehead a mental smack. For someone who looks like a stalker, L should know better than to be so careless with his words. And as expected, the girl was giving him an uneasy look.

"What my friend means to say is," Light interjected when L simply stared back at the woman. "Do you have any plans for tonight once your shift is over?"

She looked to Light, back to L, and then to the chain hanging between them beside the table. She gave a little laugh. "Ah, I see. I'm flattered boys, but I'm married." She pulled a gold chain from under her shirt, showing them the set of rings attached. "Should have caught me this time last year." She gave L a deviant wink, and sauntered off to her other customers.

Leaning over, Light gave L a furious whisper. "Are you insane?"

"What did I say?" L turned his head to one side slightly, the semblance of a puzzled expression on his features.

"'What time will you be leaving here?'" Light lowered his voice, emulating L's. "'By the way, which car will you be walking to so I'll know where to wait and hide?' You sounded like some kind of rapist."

L ignored him, deciding to pluck a few cherries from the glass by their stems and put them in his martini. "Here." L reached over and dropped a cherry in Light's second Crimson Death as an offering of apology.

"_Argh_! I don't know where your fingers have been." Light straightened to look down into his drink with affront.

"Light-kun doesn't remember? They were–"

"_Hush_, Ryuzaki. I remember." Light gave him a naughty smile from across the table. He knew exactly where they'd been, and he also knew that they'd been washed since then, thank goodness.

Turning his head, Light surveyed the room full of people – on a mission.

"Look." Light pointed discreetly at a petite Japanese girl standing at the bar in wait for her drink. She wore a tiny, sleeveless shirt in pink, and her matching, ruffled skirt just barely covered the entirety of her rather nice-looking ass.

L turned to see, then turned right back to stare at Light. "No Asian women, please."

_What the hell_? "What's wrong with Asian women?"

L gave a tired sigh, clearly not ecstatic about explaining. "Nothing is wrong with them. I just want something a little more . . ." L looked up, poking at his lip in what appeared to be deep-thought. ". . . exciting." He concluded, his eyes swiveling down to pin Light with a positively evil gaze.

"Like?" Light raised an eyebrow at him before finishing off the last of his first drink.

"Hmmm?" L was looking around as Light had been earlier, mentally sorting through the bodies and faces that met with his analytical eyes. "An American woman, or maybe English." He replied, as if talking to himself.

"A white woman?" Light pushed the empty glass to the edge of the table, and started work on the second. He was going to need it.

"Are you familiar with them?" L asked, as if they were some kind of rare, colorful bird of myth.

"Can't say that I am. But, what difference does it make? All women are the same." He took another sip of his alcohol, hurrying his way to a third.

"I beg to differ, Light-kun. There are general differences in the reproductive anatomy . . ." He fished a cherry out of the milky brown liquid of his martini, popped it into his mouth, and continued around it. "You and I, for instance. The difference in our ethnic background seems to have manifested itself in the difference in our–"

"Alright, Ryuzaki." Light interrupted, holding up his hand. "I am _well_ aware of _that_, as I'm sure you already know."

Really. Sometimes he could believe that L's naivety was genuine, and sometimes he just knew that his ingenuous ramblings were nothing more than an act. Like now. And not because he believed that even L knew better than to say something like that with a deadpanned face.

But because of that malevolent little smirk he saw playing upon those sinful lips, and that impious gleam in those pitch black marbles looking up at him as L drew from his straw.

"It's always hard to tell with Kira." He gave before looking down into his ebbing drink, appearing content with himself.

"Says _Evil Twin L_." Light shot right back, leaning forward to keep his voice from carrying, the loud music notwithstanding.

The term got a quiet little chuckle from L as he loudly slurped up the last of his second drink. Carefully picking another alcohol-saturated cherry from the bottom of the martini glass, he dragged it along the inside to cover it with syrup before raising it up and lowering it into his mouth. The waitress returned, and Light did the same with his own drink, leaving just a few swallows in the glass before tossing the cherry in his mouth

"How you boys doing?"

"Another Crimson Death, please. And a Kamikaze shot." Light went first, pushing his almost empty glass to her.

The girl beamed. "Ohhh, good choice. He's making them strong tonight. And you?" She turned to L, who was still trying to decide by looking for his answer in the ceiling.

"Can you make Bailey's Coffee here? With extra sugar?"

"Coming right up." As before, she gathered their empty glasses and sprinted off into the blanket of people surrounding them.

While they waited, Light turned around in his chair slightly to see what was happening on the dance floor. He happened to spy one particular female – with short blonde hair and long legs - who might fit L's requirements, when he felt that familiar pulling of the chain that meant L wanted his attention.

"By the door, Light-kun. With the Ladybug on her top." L explained, his eyes never leaving what he described.

Light twisted the other way in his chair, his eyes searching for a girl that fit L's description in the direction of the entrance. Just arriving was an entire pack of non-Asian women, complete with a few males standing around them protectively. They were stationary for the most part, engaged in conversation while they waited for a table.

There were eight people in all, five women and three men, and they all huddled together in a mix of blonde/brown hair, and colorful clothing. Light stared; but he didn't see what he was looking for, and moved to turn around to say just that when one particular female broke from the herd.

Honestly. Leave it to a half breed like L to go after the most prized pedigree at the show.

Light, on his own, _might_ have had a chance at her. But with the likes of creepy, socially inept little L chained to him? Not a chance in hell. It didn't matter how darkly sexy _he _thought L was. Females like her mingled with their own kind . . . they did _not_, as a rule, move down the ladder.

So when the rattling of the chain binding them alerted Light to the fact that L was already out of his chair, and prowling his way toward her; Light couldn't help but groan inwardly and follow behind him.

_This_, he thought anxiously as he caught curious stares from those they passed by, _was not going to end well.

* * *

_

_**Don't own Death Note, and thank goodness.**  
_


	4. That Couple In The Window

**Tunes in Profile:**

_Train_

_American Woman

* * *

_**How Much Is That Couple In The Window?

* * *

  
**

She was shorter than the rest, maybe a tad over five foot if Light had to guess, and her hair fell in alternating curls of golden blonde and dark chocolate. Which, while very cute, was something he thought only an American would do. Not that the color of her hair or how pretty it looked mattered – the girl could have been bald and it wouldn't have made a damn bit of difference.

It was the way she moved, Light suspected, that set her apart from the others. She had a sensual grace about her - a confidence in the way she held herself, and a sway of those deliciously flared hips that made her so sexually appealing. She was drop-dead sexy, she was trouble, and she knew it.

Once they were just over halfway to her location, and she turned her attention to them, Light was able to get a better look at her face.

Not at all the haughty, unapproachable thing he'd expected.

Instead of a vicious green, or a cold blue; her eyes were a soft brown, their appearance clear and friendly. And unlike the hostile frown he'd assumed would be there, her full lips were turned upward in a welcoming smile towards them. A smile that created the tiniest little dimples in what looked like just a bit of baby-fat still remaining. The rest was simply a matter of symmetry – petite nose, thin eyebrows, and a complexion that matched what Light's own had once been. Altogether, she was a real darling . . . even with that crazy hair. Adorable and sweet.

And, Light couldn't help but think, _young. _ Not Statutory Rape young, but _just a little questionable_ young. Even with the rather lax laws in Japan, which attracted men from all over the world thanks to a **13** year old age of consent limit, Light still had that nagging _this is off_ feeling in his gut. Anything below 16, in his opinion, was just a bit repulsive.

Now, upon closer inspection; this potential prey of L's, her well-filled out form in those too-tight pale blue jeans and spaghetti-string shirt notwithstanding, looked as though she might qualify for repulsive.

L side-stepped gracefully around a couple holding hands, and Light did the same. They were almost there. And when they made it into conversation range, the girl finally did something that Light _did_ expect.

Her eyes slid downward, straight to the steel tether that hung between them loosely given their close proximity.

Light couldn't tell what she thought about it. If she found it creepy or disturbing, as he was sure she must, she didn't show it. She only grinned as she met their eyes again, moved forward a bit to separate herself from her flock, and waited for them to approach her.

"Hello." L greeted around a cherry still being pushed around in his mouth.

She brightened at his use of English, and responded cheerily with the same. "Hi!"

Producing his glass of cherries that Light had not seen him grab, he offered it to her. "Cherry?"

Light smiled. Beautiful. Kind. And as dumb as a rock, if she was accepting cherries from strangers in a nightclub, of all places. Maybe that was what L wanted. Someone he could manipulate with little effort.

Pushing the bright red fruit between pink lips, she pointed at the chain he and L shared. "I have one of those, too."

She lifted her top, exposing smooth skin and the flat planes of her belly. And there, encircling her narrow waist, was a delicate chain made of yellow gold. Encouraged by the both of them leaning in to inspect it, she turned around to show them the back. Light noticed, just below the chain, were two more dimples on her lower back.

"Isn't that charming, Light-kun?" L asked, staring at the girl's backside up close.

"Indeed it is." He agreed, starting to care less about how old she was with the more he saw of her.

With two fingers, L tugged the girl's shirt back down to cover her skin. They both straightened as she turned back around to face them, letting the front of her shirt fall as well.

"What's your name?" L asked; his intense, wide-eye stare not seeming to bother her at all. Actually, she didn't seem bothered by anything about L. Not his ghostly appearance; not his too-large clothes that he hadn't even bothered to change for something more fitting to a club; not even his habit of standing just a little too close.

But then, Light could tell that L had toned down his usually bizarre self considerably . . . even going so far as to stand up almost-straight. _Just when the fuck_, he thought, _had L obtained the ability to socialize like a normal person!?_

She offered her hand to him. "I'm Tess."

L accepted with the skeletal fingers of his right hand, the shaking movement disturbing the chain between them. "Ryuzaki."

Light was next, and he too gave her his right hand. "Light." Even if she had been Japanese, he would have still left the 'kun' part off. There was no need for honorifics in their situation, and the intimacy of it could only help them.

"Light? That's kind of unusual, isn't it?" She asked, staring up at him with those doe-brown eyes.

He grinned at her – that easy, warm smile of his – and shifted his weight to his right side in a show of modesty. "Yeah, kind of."

Giving them both curious glances, her brow furrowed in confusion. "I feel like your names should be reversed. You," she pointed at L. "Have a very Japanese name, but you don't really look Japanese. And you," she pointed at Light. "Your name is more something I would come across as belonging to an American."

L and Light shared a glimpse with one another before L spoke up. "Light-kun's name is pronounced differently in Japanese. He's giving you the variation that is easiest for you. As for me, my mother was Japanese, and she named me." He gave a non-threatening little smile, shoving his right hand in his pocket.

Worry crossed her features. "Oh, I haven't offended you, have I?" She asked of both of them.

Again, L took the initiative on this one. "No, of course not. Actually, we would like to invite you to join us at our table, if you'd like."

There was a certain something Light caught in L's voice. A soft, purring quality that all men adopted when speaking to a female they wanted to fuck. Not in itself all that surprising; but in L's case, it was startling. Even in the bedroom, L had never bothered to grace _him_ with such a thing.

And she took right to it, just as expected. "I'd love to. Let me tell my friends, and I'll meet you."

* * *

"How you managed to pull that off, I will _never_ know." Light told L once they were back at their table in front of their drinks.

L sighed. "You seem to have this assumption that I am completely incapable of interacting with other human beings, and I'm not sure where you've gotten it from. I'll admit, there are some things that I remain ignorant of, and there are some experiences that I lack. But for Light-kun to think that I am entirely socially hopeless is short-sighted. Let's remember who I am, and what I do."

Light bristled at the condescending speech L gave him without even bothering to look at him. "I remember just fine." he ground out in annoyance.

"So then, maybe you can explain your reasoning as to how the _best_ detective in the world can manage to profile his suspects when he himself has no understanding of human behavior?" Another cherry was being steered towards his mouth listlessly.

"There is a big difference between text-book knowledge, and hands-on experience."

L looked at him now, cocking his head to one side. "That's true, Light-kun. And a good answer that I will let you believe for the sake of my own privacy."

_Argh! _It was on the tip of Light's tongue to tell L to go _fuck_ himself when the arrival of their new friend stayed his tongue. Needing something to do with the anger heating his blood, Light got up and pulled the added chair out for her.

"Thank you, Light." She threw a smile over her shoulder as she climbed up the foot railing to settle in. She placed a small, black girl-wallet on the table in front of her, and looked about to see if she could call a waitress.

"Here." L dropped two cherries onto the cream of his Bailey's Coffee, and slid it towards her. "I'll get another when our server comes back."

"Are you sure? I can wait." She asked genuinely, and not just because it was the proper thing to do so as not to look greedy.

"Quite sure, Tess. Please enjoy it."

What a bastard L was. Ingratiating himself to her with an inviting, cordial demeanor; when really he was just fattening her up for the kill. Of course, Light knew that L was capable of manipulating people. Hadn't he asked Light himself to do that very thing with Misa for the benefit of the investigation? An idea he had refused not only because of his aversion to it, but because the thought of pursuing Misa in such a way _exhausted_ him. He wasn't all the crazy about her in the first place, and trying to get closer to her didn't appeal to him in the slightest.

Nevertheless, Light had to admit, watching L stalk his prey was arousing. Hearing that tone of voice that L used with her, and seeing that interested, hungry look in his eyes when he looked at her . . . it all made Light want to terminate this misguided adventure of theirs and just take L home to bed.

"Do you mind?" He heard L ask the girl, a long finger pointing at her wallet.

"Go right ahead. You probably won't find anything of great interest." She pushed it toward him before taking a sip of her drink. There was no straw in that one, and when she was finished, there was a moderate amount of thick cream sticking to her lips.

Light looked on as her tongue slid out from between her lips to lick them clean. He had to give L credit – the man had taste. This girl was pure sex; practically anything she did had filthy thoughts running through Light's mind.

"Tess," L pronounced her name in a soft, vibrant sound. "Is 17? Much younger than I had guessed."

Turning his attention to what L was doing with her wallet, Light caught sight of her license dangling from L's fingers.

_Sneaky bastard!_ He was _carding_ her – checking her age without coming right out and asking. And Light knew damn good and well that L did not think she'd been older than 17.

Tess laughed. "How old did you guess?"

L concentrated on sliding her license back into its plastic pocket. "Twenty, at least."

_Liar_. Fifteen. Maybe.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Ryuzaki." She gave him a playful grin, as if to ask _I'm not too young for you now, am I?_

"On the contrary. Seventeen is a good number." He returned her wallet to its original position, his eyes moving along the front of her shirt discreetly.

Their waitress returned, and both L and Tess ordered. Light still had his Crimson Death and Kamikaze, and that was probably going to be it for him. Already, he felt warm and fuzzy from the first 2 drinks he'd had. Or had it been 3 drinks?

"I hope Tess will forgive me for what I'm about to say, as I may be out of order, but I should tell you the reason why we approached you." L turned to her a little awkwardly in his chair, his face the perfect example of innocence.

"I already know, so don't worry about offending me."

That surprised L, his eyes widening. "You already know?"

"Excuse me," Light cut in, leaning into the table. "But how do you know?" He had to ask. It was probably something way off base.

With the both of them staring at her expectantly, Tess looked as though she would think better of telling them. "Well," she started anyway, her eyes giving their restraints a quick glance. "You're gay, right? And you're here to find a female . . . participant?"

Light's gaze snapped to L in astonishment, and L looked back at him with a slight _what the hell_ look that only he could see.

"_Oh_, I'm wrong, aren't I?" Her hand flew to her mouth in embarrassment, her face quickly turning a dark shade of pink. "I'm _so_ sorry. I didn't mean–"

"It's alright." L's attention went back to her in an effort to quell the words spilling from her mouth. "That's it exactly, but how did you guess?"

Relief smoothed her expression, and she let out a little sigh. "The chain kind of gave it away that you're partners, and I know that it isn't uncommon for gay couples to seek out a woman to join them."

Not uncommon? Just who were these other deviants going around doing such things? And who said they were partners? Light was _not_ gay, and even if he were, L would _never_ be his 'partner'. They were companions of circumstance . . . products of their current environment, and nothing more.

Of course, Light didn't voice any of that. He decided to go with something different.

"Actually, that's not it exactly." He caught L's glare in his peripheral vision, his eyes narrowed in expectation of what Light was going to say. "See, Ryuzaki has never been with a girl. And up until a few weeks ago, he has been completely . . ." Light struggled for the English word. ". . . self-sufficient."

It took everything Light had not to grin evilly. He could just _feel_ the daggers L's eyes were currently shooting at him. Although Light wasn't entirely comfortable saying this, his discomfort was so, _so_ worth _that_ look of murder.

_Oh calm down, Ryuzaki. What difference does it make if she knows? She has to know._

"I'm his first, I guess you would say, and we thought it would be a good idea to give him a little more . . . _experience_. Does this make sense?"

Tess nodded and smiled. "Absolutely."

"So, we are here to find a suitable female for him to try out . . . see if he likes it . . . that sort of thing. And since we're looking for the best possible sample for our experiment, and you're the prettiest girl here . . . Well . . ." He held out his hands to let her finish that little speech of his however she liked.

It might not show, but Light had no doubt that L, who still fixed an angry stare on him, was _livid_ behind that inexpressive stone mask of his. Quickly, Light busied himself with taking several sips of his drink, lest he lose his composure and laugh at the boy uncontrollably.

"What Light-kun says is true." L replied a moment later, still staring at Light. "It would most likely be just you and I, I'm afraid. And whilst I would have no objections to him actively participating, I shan't think he would feel comfortable putting himself in a position that would undoubtedly compare us side-by-side. It would be appalling of me to slag his manhood, but the fact remains that Light-kun is, after all, full-blooded Japanese."

At the last, perfectly good alcohol managed to spew itself from his mouth onto the table, without his permission. Light missed a few words here and there, thanks to L's anger allowing his very English background to show through, but he got the gist of what was said. And frankly, he could not believe that L had gone so far as to insult him in such a vulgar way.

"It would also appear as though he is unable to hold his alcohol." L commented dryly, pushing himself back from the table a little and turning to Tess. "I do apologize for Light-kun's rather dreadful behavior. He is typically a very well-mannered young man."

_Those words will be your last_, Light thought as he struggled to recover. _You should have made them a prayer_.

"If you don't mind me saying, you two make the most unlikely of friends." Tess removed her napkin from under her glass and pushed it across the table toward Light as she spoke.

"Do we? Sometimes I wonder." L gave as they both watched Light dab at the red that had made its way down to his khaki pants and dark blue shirt.

"So do I." Light chimed in darkly.

Tess laughed suddenly, as if their bickering was the most interesting thing in the world. "I'll take you."

Light froze, the napkin suspended in mid-air above his pant leg. And L, as if he'd never expected anyone to _really_ cooperate with them, snapped his head toward her in surprise.

"You'll 'take' us?" He asked stupidly.

"Yep. The two of you are adorable, and I'm sure you're the most exciting thing I'll come across all night. So let's work on finishing our drinks, and see what we can get crackin, eh?"

They both nodded lamely, at a loss for words.

"Great. I'm going to powder my nose, and I'll be right back."

They both nodded again, continuing their stupefied silence. That is, until she was out of sight.

"Light-kun–" L began, still looking at the general direction of her disappearance.

"Are we bailing?" He asked seriously, switching back to Japanese now that he no longer needed the English for her benefit.

"No. It's just that this is . . ."

"Just as planned?"

Light grabbed a clean napkin, and carried on his work on his pants. Most of it had come out, and there was only a slight pink stain in the tan fabric. His shirt, however, hadn't fared as well. Luckily, it was a dark color and didn't show as bad. Still, he started to press the napkin against the wet spot when he happened to hear the sound of a glass being scraped across the table.

Looking up, he saw L's fingers working at some kind of object beside her glass. He watched, the alcohol in his system slowing the realization of just what L was about.

"What **_the hell_** are you doing!?" Light exclaimed, reaching forward to snatch her drink from his fingers. He looked around quickly, hoping no one noticed.

L's eyes followed the drink being moved out of his grasp. "Probably what it looks like. Please give that back."

He reached for it again, and Light dragged it closer to himself. "You're . . . _drugging_ her drink? Have you lost your mind?"

"I would prefer that she did not remember this incident, so please don't interfere."

"I'm sorry, Ryuzaki, but that's not going to happen. You might be able to vanish at the drop of a hat, but I can't. If something were to happen . . . who do you think it'll be pinned on?"

"No one, if she can't remember anything. This is why it's usually so hard to prosecute." L answered as if Light should have already known that.

Light shook his head. "No – absolutely not."

L stared at him for several moments, one long finger coming up to play with his lip for the second time since they'd been there. "What could happen?"

Light curled his arm protectively around the glass and leaned forward. "I've never had to _date rape_ anyone before, so I wouldn't know!" He whispered harshly.

L shrugged indifferently. "Give me the glass, Light-kun. If she comes back and sees you with it, then we will both be in trouble."

Light's eyes went to whatever it was L had his fingers curled around before returning to L in challenge. "I will call my father the _second_ I even _think_ I see you putting anything in her drink, consequences for being here this late with you be damned."

L matched his gaze evenly, the blacks of his eyes bright and calculating. "Protecting the innocent so fiercely. How very . . ." L gave a little smirk. "Kira-like."

And there was L's second jab of the night in reference to Kira. But Light wasn't phased in the least. "I'm not joking, _detective._ You do that, and I'll squeal like a stuck pig."

Light didn't wait for a response either way as he slid the glass back to its original position. He'd put his cards on the table, and it was L's move.


	5. Live Fast and Die Young

**Tunes in Profile:**

_Time To Pretend_

_Strict Machine_

_

* * *

_

**Live Fast and Die Young

* * *

**_  
_

"You boys gettin' along?"

Tess asked them both as she hoisted herself back into her chair. With Light and L sitting opposite one another, Tess fit perfectly between the two on L's right, and Light's left. There, she could play with the chain under the table that hung low between the two boys.

"_Yes._" They both answered at the same time; turning cold, steady eyes onto one another.

"Splendid," she said before taking a sip of her drink. Light cast the glass a quick glance – L had given up his idea of drugging the girl, thank goodness.

Once she set the glass on the table, and her wallet next to it; Tess added a third item to the collection in front of her. "This is for you."

L's curious blacks followed the small piece of black plastic that she pushed towards his portion of the tabletop with one finger. It was what appeared to be a remote – probably an electronic key fob for a vehicle, if he had to guess. She wanted him to drive her car?

"I have an auto, Tess."

She chuckled at him, her eyes full of mischief beneath her eyelashes. "Oh, that's not for a car."

When L only continued to stare at her, not comprehending, she turned her eyes to Light to check his reaction. He, too, wore a mystified expression. With a roll of her eyes, Tess tilted to the side in her chair towards L and used the bit of chain hanging from the cuff around his wrist to pull him to her.

Light watched as Tess, with every bit of the lasciviousness one expected to see in a sex kitten such as her, nuzzled her way through the wild locks of black about L's head to whisper sensually in his ear.

He wasn't jealous of the way her hand slid around to hold on to the other side of L's pale neck, or at how close those pouty lips were to his ear as they mouthed words - deliberate and slow. It didn't even bother him that L leaned further into the girl's flirtatious advance; large eyes moving slowly upward from his drink to Light himself with an expression he couldn't read. Dark and devilish, Light could make out untold amounts of wickedness in that black glass of the detective's.

Not jealous at all. It was just a new experience, is all. New and . . . strange . . . and . . . _intensely_ erotic.

Looking down at those deliciously talented and _long_ fingers of L's wrapped around his glass, Light couldn't help but imagine what it would be like to see those pallid, skeletal fingers wrapped around this girl's thighs instead; digging into the flesh there to hold her still as he pounded himself against her body. Light wondered; would he fuck her from behind as he liked to do to him? Would he lower his weight onto her and sink his teeth into that same spot on _her_ shoulder that he knew drove Light into a frenzy?

With as much tact as he could muster, Light snuck his hand under the tablecloth and the fabric of his own pants to resituate his body's response to watching L frolic with this female. It would be wise to no longer watch them, but wasn't that why he was here? Light would just have to deal with it for a little while longer, he decided.

His eyes widened even further, and his lips parted in genuine surprise – something Light rarely ever saw from the usually stoic mastermind. L turned his head to stare at Tess, who had retreated just far enough to give him a knowing smile. With a quick lick of his lips, and what _might _have been the slightest twitch in his jaw, L snatched the remote from the tabletop and shoved it in his pocket as if it held the secret to the Universe within, his eyes never leaving her.

"Someone fill me in. What is that thing?" Light tried to look disinterested, but he didn't think he'd pulled it off. They were making him _so_ hard, and he was about ready to go. He'd downed the Kamikaze, and only had a few swallows left on his Crimson Death.

Tess inclined her head in Light's direction, her arm still draped about the front of L's shoulders, and gave him a wink. She wasn't going to spill the secret, and judging from that tiny smirk on L's face, neither was he.

"You're trouble." Light gave her with a lazy grin, giving up on hiding the lust boiling his blood.

"You think so?" She asked, her voice light and teasing.

"I know so." Seventeen his ass. This chick was a pro.

She smiled warmly before sitting proper in her seat and knocking down the rest of her second drink. Light could tell she was just as thrown as he was, and he'd had way more alcohol than her.

L, whom he'd never pegged as much of a drinker, appeared to be better off than the both of them. Although, not by much. Highly reflective by default, his now lax eyes were practically shining like mercury from his less-than-sober state, and the white of his skin was now tinged with just a dash of rose pink. Every once in a while, his languid form would sway this way or that, and Light could tell it was taking an _insane_ amount of self-control for him not to grin stupidly at them.

He might look blitzed. He might even _be_ blitzed, which Light was sure that he was. But Light knew, without a shred of doubt, that this brilliant beast was just as intellectually sharp as ever. The man could be fucked up beyond recognition, and those gears behind the holes in his eyes would _still_ grind away as usual.

Out of the blue, because Light had seen no indication of anything happening opposite of him, a knee banged harshly against the underside of the table; the abrupt jolt and the sound of glass jarring startling Light.

"Sorry." L said softly, looking down at Tess with a cherry in his mouth.

Light couldn't tell who the culprit was, or just _what_ they were doing over there under the tablecloth; but Tess appeared a great deal more flushed than before. Her brow crumpled and her eyes suddenly open, she seemed worked-up over something. Perhaps that errant hand of L's currently grazing along the dip between her shoulder and her throat had a lot to do with it.

"No need, I just wasn't expecting it." She bit at her bottom lip anxiously. "Must pay better attention."

"But that would take the fun out of it, yes?" L asked innocently, his fingers pulling at the string of her top absentmindedly. Not enough to remove it from her shoulder; just enough to let her know that he _wanted_ to.

"Ohhhh," she purred at him in response. "You learn fast."

"You have no idea." L met Light's eyes across the table.

Light knew that wanton visage playing upon L's face – that slight tilt of his head that said, _Next!_

He was ready, and so was Light. Everyone's glasses were empty, and it had suddenly become stifling hot indoors. It was time to go.

"You'll be leaving with us then, Tess?" Light asked as he slipped down from his chair clumsily.

"If you'll have me."

"I think we will, yes." L confirmed, making his own way down from his chair. Thanks to his longer legs, L was much more graceful in making it to the floor, even with the alcohol affecting him. Digging into his pocket, L dropped what looked like to Light a senseless amount of money onto the table.

"The tab wasn't even half that, Ryuzaki."

L shrugged carelessly. "Leave it. She was pleasant."

Accepting the hand Tess offered him, L let her pull him behind her through the jumble of people that separated them from the exit. Apparently, his earlier apprehension about her accepting their proposal was all but defeated by the alcohol.

Light had no choice but to follow right behind the both of them, given that L had wrapped a good portion of their chain around his right hand.

If her friends had any objections, or even noticed that she was leaving, Light didn't hear a thing about it. Before he knew it, they were out the door and onto the light-washed sidewalk. Cool air did what it could for him, but there was just no cooling the heat radiating from his skin at the moment. And it didn't get any better once the both of them ended up walking on either side of Tess, the shackle becoming something of an erotic plaything for all three of them.

With the chain in front of her, Tess would bring it to her lips and bite provocatively at it or let it run along her tongue. Something that made Light want to tell her just _where_ exactly those links have been, if he thought she even cared.

After being able to tolerate so much of _that_, L decided to twist his half of the chain around her neck loosely, imprisoning her between the two of them like some kind of pet, and settling her down as they made their way to the car.

Looking down to his left, Light could see L's ashen fingers toying with the gold chain at Tess' back, under her shirt. And he wondered, somewhere far away from his current movement along the pavement, if it was the alcohol making L so bold, or if maybe he was a pimp in disguise. Either way, Light found himself surprised that this detached, unsociable boy somehow had better game than he did.

Just what the hell. Was it that unwavering confidence of his? Or that reserved, _I don't give a damn_ manner? Maybe Tess just had a thing for the sad, pitiful puppy-dog type? One of those girls that looked for the _Save Me_ sign some men liked to carry on their back.

Light shook his head. Who the hell cared? She'd agreed to come with them, and that was all that mattered. If she was dumb enough to put herself in such a situation, then they were damn well going to take advantage of it.

He caught L staring at him over Tess' head, and by the infinitesimal smile that L was giving him, Light knew that the exact same thoughts were going through his head as well.

_You're such a bastard._ Light told him with the narrowing of his eyes.

_I know._ L gave back, that tiny smile almost breaking his face into a real grin.

It was sick. Twisted. The way he lead this little lamb to the slaughter with kind words, gentle touches, and a voice dripping with innocent sexual invitation. The man didn't have a cordial bone in his body, and here he was with Tess convinced that he was the most charming thing to ever walk the planet, playing that naïve card to the 'T'.

_Cherry?_ Of all the things.

Tess stopped short, a queer little expression on her face, and both of them did the same to avoid choking her to death.

"Is Tess all right?" L asked, looking concerned to Light's eyes. He was fidgeting with his left hand in his pocket again, and really not that steady on his feet. But then, neither was Light.

It took her a moment to recover before she simpered at him. "Fine."

There were quite a few people walking the streets at this time of night – some heading to the club, some leaving as they were, and some who just walked the streets. Couples, threesomes; others in groups of four and larger. And several of them, Light noticed, gave their own situation a knowing smile here, or a nod of the head there.

Being two men with an attractive young female in chains between them, Light could only wonder what they thought.

L remained oblivious of them, or he at least acted as he did. Instead, he concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other; and whatever attention didn't go to that apparently went to the fingers Light saw creeping their way farther under Tess' shirt and around her waist. The restraints, though, were limiting how far he could go, so L went through the process of wrapping them around her in reverse to remove them.

"Better?" L asked her when she snuggled up against his side, practically begging for the fingertips that returned to graze along her ribcage beneath her top. Her response was only a satisfied noise in the back of her throat.

Really, the way these two were carrying on in the middle of a public street. If Light saw anyone that he knew . . . or that knew his father; he was going to expire right there on the scene. Who the hell had to worry about _Kira_ when he had L getting him into trouble every time he turned around? His idea? Sure. But he'd expected them to at least wait until they got over the threshold of whatever hotel room they were going to. Didn't L know they could get into some serious trouble if they were found out?

Thankfully, the odds of such a thing happening were decreasing with every step he took since they were now only a few feet from their vehicle. All they had to do was get behind that dark glass and–

"_Light-kun_!"

At the sound of someone calling Light's name from all the way down the street, both L and Light turned around quickly to see who it was.

"Are you shitting me?" Light asked, incredulous.

"Think of something, Light-kun." L demanded, disengaging himself from Tess and steering her toward their vehicle.

"Me? Why me?" Light tossed over his shoulder.

"Because you're good at this sort of thing."

As quick as he could move without alarming Tess, or toppling over; L closed the remaining distance to the car while rummaging in his pocket for his own key fob, and got her safely in the vehicle. He'd just closed the door with a soft _click,_ and moved to join Light in standing in front of that door on the curb, when their intruder came upon them - out of breath from the run they'd broken into.

* * *

** . . . **


	6. Daddy's Little Girl

**Tunes in Profile:**

_Beer in a Bar_

_Martyr _– Something I thought appropriate for L and Light.

_Go All The Way (With Me) - _**Deleted. Did not realise it was from Twilight, and that franchise can tickle my nuts.**_  


* * *

  
_

Notes . . .

In L's defense, the factory navigation system for this model Mercedes is _filth._ A good deal of the information in the system is outdated, and half the time the car can't even tell where you are. After-market GPS is needed, although it does ruin the ambience of the interior.

**S-Guard** – These are specialty versions of the Mercedes S-Class. Armored and engineered to withstand small explosions and gunfire. Used world-wide by diplomats and high-level personnel. I can't imagine L driving anything else, as paranoid as he is.

* * *

_Matsuda. Idiot._

"Hey!" Matsuda gave a nervous little smile to L, who simply stared back, before directly questioning Light. "What are you two doing here?"

Light had a few options that had popped into his head the minute he'd seen Matsuda running toward them, but none of them seemed quite that believable to his own ears.

_L wanted to see his girlfriend._ That had been the first, and Light knew that even oblivious Matsuda would see right through that one. L was definitely one of those, "_Shut up! I almost had a girlfriend_!" kind of guys.

_L wanted to see his sister._ Again, another failure of epic proportions. L would never introduce anyone he even remotely liked to his suspect, much less his own family.

_We're here picking up chicks, you imbecile. _Although it was the truth, it was so far out there and out of character for both of them, that Matsuda might just take it in jest and leave-off. Of course, Light didn't feel comfortable banking on such a thing. He really, really needed something that was both benign and obvious _Don't tell Daddy_ material. Something . . . that would appeal to Matsuda's soft heart.

"Well, it's kind of a long story. A school-mate of mine had gotten herself into a bit of trouble, and I convinced Ryuzaki to bring me here to take her safely home." He went with after another moment of contemplation.

_Genius. Pure genius. Really, I'm just way too brilliant for my own good._

Matsuda continued to stare at Light for several moments, the process of his brain computing Light's explanation showing clearly on his face. Input. Processing. It was taking so long, that Light's attention had time to pick up music still pouring out from the club into the street.

His eyes widened in concern, his mouth forming into an 'O' shape. "Ohhhhh, is she okay?"

And Output. Finally.

"Yeah, she's fine. We just need to get her home." _That's it, Light. Keep it steady. Don't get too close and let him smell the alcohol on you. Pay attention to your footing. Stay calm, relax your shoulders, shift your weight modestly. Give him a sense of urgency. Press upon him that she needs to be home, and you'll be rid of him momentarily._

Matsuda looked to L for confirmation. But L was no longer following the conversation, his attention having drifted to some non-existent alternate dimension he'd apparently found in the window behind him, his hand fidgeting in his pocket again.

"Ryuzaki was good enough to help when I told him of her . . . unfortunate circumstances." Light went with whatever popped into his alcohol-saturated brain in an attempt to snap L to attention. He lowered his voice to an almost whisper, taking great care not to get too close to Matsuda. "Some _asshole_ drugged her drink. Luckily, she suspected; and called me before she got too bad off." He looked to L. "Isn't that right, Ryuzaki?"

L, looking as though he was just now noticing the both of them staring at him expectedly, decided to grace them with his participation. "Yes, Light-kun is correct."

With the voice of God confirming Light's account, Matsuda appeared to accept it without further doubt. He even took a step closer, attempting to peer between them and into the passenger side window.

"Some pervert really drugged her?" He asked, unable to help shoving his nose where it didn't belong.

Both Light and L leaned back as discreetly as they could, and both sidestepped toward one another to close the gap between them.

"Unfortunately. Which is why I think it best that we get her to her residence before she loses consciousness." L offered, jingling the keys in his hand to reiterate the statement.

Matsuda backed up, to the relief of both of them. If he noticed the smell of alcohol on either boy, he hid it well. "Yes, of course." He looked to Light. "I, uh . . . "

Matsuda turned to look behind himself, and for the first time, Light noticed a dark-haired young man staring at them from a far-off bench. He was obviously waiting for Matsuda, who hadn't given much thought to running over here under the circumstances.

"Who gave Matsuda-san permission to leave headquarters?" L interrupted, turning the tables on Matsuda suddenly.

Matsuda turned his attention back to L, a wounded expression twisting his features. "Permission?" He repeated lamely.

"Yes. As Amane's manager, and a member of the investigation, I don't think I need to remind you that coming and going frivolously is unwise." L wasn't unkind in his berating, but Matsuda looked as though L had physically struck him.

"And I don't think my father would approve either, Matsuda." Light added gravely, perfectly in-tune with what L was attempting to accomplish.

The young officer gave a little sigh, defeated. "You're right, Light-kun. I guess I was just bored, and not thinking of the consequences."

L's eyes narrowed at him in distaste. "As a member of the NPA, you–"

"Oh shut _up,_ Ryuzaki." Light cut him off quickly, and turned his attention back to Matsuda. "No harm done." He smiled sweetly at the older man, putting him at ease. "We all lose sight of our priorities sometimes, don't we?"

Matsuda brightened at Light's offer of camaraderie. "So you won't tell the Chief?"

Light nodded slowly. "As long as it's something that won't happen again, I don't see a need in adding anymore stress to my father's life. One of his favorite detectives doing something like this would break his heart." He looked to L. "As long as Ryuzaki agrees, of course."

"This time." L glared at Matsuda, playing up his _Bad Cop_ part of the _Good Cop, Bad Cop_ routine nicely.

"As long as you don't mention anything, Ryuzaki and I will forget the whole thing." Light confirmed pleasantly.

Matsuda gave an eager nod, completely fooled by the brilliant duo. "Scout's Honor."

"Good. Now, we need to get my friend home."

Matsuda looked as though he'd completely forgotten why they were even standing there in the first place. "Oh, right. I'll see you guys later, then."

With that, he waved as if they weren't standing within hearing distance, and then took off to return to his waiting . . . friend. Light and L watched for a moment as Matsuda met up with the other guy, and then rounded the corner and disappeared.

"Nice performance, Light-kun." L commented quietly from beside him, the both of them still staring at the now vacant corner.

"You think? Felt a little overdone to me."

"Not at all," L disagreed. "Just as I said, you're good at this sort of thing. Shall we go?"

L moved first, unlocking the doors and opening the back door right behind them. Because of the chain, they'd had to work out a system for getting into, and out of, the car. And since L was used to climbing on furniture, and Light wasn't, L was the one who had to climb in-between the front seats, and over the center console to get into the driver seat.

Light waited patiently as he did just that, stepping carefully over the center console and into his own leather cushion. And with the grace of a marionette, its strings suddenly lax, he slid down the backrest and plopped into his seat. Light just shook his head, settled into the middle of the backseat, and closed the door. He positioned the chain as an afterthought, even though there was more than enough length to accommodate the both of them.

"Who was that?" Tess asked curiously when they were settled.

"Village idiot." He replied indifferently, as if it explained everything just perfectly.

Taking a moment longer to insert the key into the ignition than it would have if he'd been totally sober, L started the car. In the backseat, Light was making sure that his seatbelt fastened securely around his waist and across his chest. Not like it made a difference – L didn't wear a seatbelt, so if he went flying through the windshield, Light would have no choice but to either follow or lose his arm when the chain was pulled taut. Still, he wanted that additional sense of security, no matter how false.

L's driving . . . left much to be desired. _Intoxicated _L's driving . . . was not going to be pretty.

Not that he was bad at it – L was actually a very capable driver, in Light's opinion. But, he just didn't seem to think that the rules of the road applied to him. He ran red lights, for starters. Not outright, of course. But if no one was around, and L was tired of sitting there? He didn't see the point in waiting, apparently. As if that weren't bad enough, L also didn't seem to possess the ability to go the speed limit. As far as he was concerned, _all_ streets were the autobahn.

And, he liked to tail-gate. Not by a few inches, either. By _centimeters_. Granted, L's reflexes were such that he could get away with it. But really, in a car this nice?

What a _beauty_ it was, too. A crushed-diamond silver, brand-new Mercedes-Benz S-Class S500 S-guard. Ash leather interior . . . heated seats . . . impeccable interior design. A real creampuff of a car – nothing like the little sporty Mercedes his dad drove.

But of course, leave it to L to fail to appreciate such elegance. The car came equipped with a factory Navigation system, and what does L do? Install one of those aftermarket GPS navigation systems, mounting the ugly thing right on the dash. And Light didn't even want to think about all the candy wrappers and empty water-bottles, that had once been filled with coffee, that sat in a neat little pile behind the passenger seat.

He broke traffic laws without a second thought, but he wouldn't litter? Light didn't know what to make of it.

"So unless you boys already have somewhere in mind, we could go to my place. My roommate went home for the weekend." Tess offered, twisting in her seat to address both of them.

L looked to Light in the rearview mirror. It was strange, seeing only those round black eyes surrounded by whitish skin in that little sliver of glass. They looked alien, and Light half expected to see a third set of eyelids blink over them.

"Objections?" L asked him.

Light shook his head. His own ability to articulate properly was deteriorating as well, so best not to waste effort to speak when he didn't have to.

"Is it the address on Tess' ID card?" L asked, pushing at the illuminated Japanese icons on the screen of his GPS unit.

"Yeeeeep."

L selected a funky looking icon on the bottom right-hand side of the screen.

"_Destination?" _The device asked in a pleasant, female voice. L responded in an equally pleasant voice, giving the address he'd memorized from her ID in Japanese.

Light listened distractedly, noting that what he heard could have been _two_ machines talking to one another, for all the humanity he heard in L's voice.

Maybe L wasn't human after all. Maybe . . . he was some kind of _android_. From the Future. Here to change the past. Who liked to fuck his human friends. Which would make him a gay robot, who liked to consume massive amounts of sugar. And sit weird. With screwy hair, and milk for blood, which explained why he was so pale, and sour.

_Wow. Am I okay?_ Light wondered silently, realizing that yep, the alcohol had completed its assault on his well-being.

Which wasn't mixing too well with a car that was now moving . . . a little too quickly. Light groaned quietly, hoping he didn't get carsick. L would pop a fuse if Light tossed his cookies in the back of his car, as obsessive-compulsive as he was about bodily fluids.

Lights zoomed passed the heavily tinted windows as if he were on a rocket ship, and Light had to make an effort _not_ to watch. Instead, he stared ahead toward the dash, watched the chain shake every so often when L shifted gears – which he did with his right hand as the vehicle was an import from the US - and listened to the conversation currently going on between the front seat occupants about the world of _Eighteen_.

"I know just the one, Tess. It was in last year's Winter Catalogue, page 10."

"Was that the Christmas issue where they were all decorated for the holidays!?"

"It is. That one's my favorite."

So L really did read _Eighteen_? Enough to memorize who was on what page, and what they wore? Light knew he shouldn't be surprised. He had, after all, found a copy of the current month's _Barely Legal_ under L's bed while looking for one of his socks, back when he'd first been moved in there. Something Light has assumed had been left behind by the previous resident, until L had claimed it in that offhand way of his when he'd caught Light poking at the biohazard with a flashlight.

"You make it look so easy." He heard Tess tell L as they came to a stop in front of a red light. "The way you shift."

"Tess doesn't know how to operate a manual?" L asked, a little slower than usual.

"Nope. It looks so complicated, and I never learned."

"Ah, but it is exceedingly simple. Here," L removed his hand from the brushed silver knob of the shifter. "Put your hand on the stick."

Light would have rolled his eyes, if the urge to regurgitate hadn't just intensified exponentially. Was L really so unaware of his use of these double entendres as he came off as being? Honestly.

After only a moment's hesitation, probably out of fear of ruining the transmission of a brand-new Mercedes, Tess obeyed. And after giving Light a secret little smirk via the rear-view, that said _yes, I know exactly what I'm doing -_ L put his own hand on top of hers; curling his long, spindly fingers over her tiny ones.

"Tess has nothing to worry about. It's intuitive, so you don't have to be precise." Light watched as he went through all six gears with her. "You follow the 'H' starting with first gear," He moved their hands back to neutral and then to the first position with a fluid, controlled movement. "And shift your way to the sixth, depending on your speed." Again, their joined hands pushed the shifter through first, second, third, fourth, fifth, and sixth. He left off reverse, most likely to avoid confounding her.

The light turned green, and L pushed the lever back to first as he worked the pedals at his feet seamlessly. Tess paid as much attention as the alcohol in her system would allow, concentrating intently on the path their hands moved along.

"Tess, there's an MP3 player in the glove box. Would you hand it to me please?" Light asked sweetly. They were busy doing their own thing, so Light was content to just see what he could find to listen to. He'd left his ear buds back at headquarters, but there was a cord wrapped around his Ipod that connected to the auxiliary jack in the center console. He'd brought it along for the trip, but they'd ended up arguing practically the whole way to the club, and he'd completely forgotten about it.

"Do you like Japanese music?" Light inquired of Tess, thinking it polite to try and accommodate her tastes.

"Would you be mad if I said no?" She gave over her shoulder.

"Not at all. I have some music with English lyrics." _Somewhere._

"Play the one I like, Light-kun." L chimed in, solving Light's dilemma in finding something she would like.

Clumsily working the clickwheel through artists, albums, and songs; Light clicked on _Depeche Mode_, and then _Martyr_. With their hands busy up front, Light leaned over in-between the seats to push the corresponding button on the stereo himself, taking care not to bump the shifter by accident.

"Oh, I love this song!" Tess squealed happily when sound spilled from the speakers suddenly.

"You like Depeche Mode?" Light asked, unable to think of anything else to say.

"Totally. They play _It's No Good_ in the clubs back at home _constantly_."

"Home being, America?" Light wasn't sure, and there was no harm in asking.

"Malibu, California." Tess clarified for Light, her eyes returning to the shifter as they started off again.

"And what brings Tess to Japan?" L inquired as he turned the wheel to maneuver the vehicle around a right corner, slow and safe.

"My father sent me here. He's kind of anal about that whole "broaden your horizons" thing." Tess emulated her father's voice in a deep, gruff tone. "But if you ask me, I think he just wants me out of his hair so he can spend time with his new _young_ wife, who doesn't like me."

"I suspect she's jealous of Tess, who is no doubt much prettier than she is." L said matter-of-factly, is if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Light was almost tempted to tell L to knock off the cheesy comments – the girl had already agreed to fuck him, so they were no longer necessary.

"Aw, you're so sweet Ryuzaki." She leaned over to offer a quick kiss to his cheek in thanks. "But she's actually very beautiful . . . thanks to her plastic surgeon." Tess muttered the last dryly, garnering a chuckle from Light. "But I like it here, so I don't mind so much."

Light kept quiet, as it was bad-form to make such a comment about a member of someone's family, but that didn't stop him from thinking about what kind of man would send his seventeen year old daughter to an entirely different country, all on her own? And for such a lame reason? What was wrong with those Americans?

"Want to try it on your own?" L asked randomly, removing his hand from hers as they sat at a stoplight.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Ryuzaki. We're pushing our luck as it is with you driving." Light interrupted with warning. "No offense, Tess." He addressed her as an afterthought.

"None taken." And the way she said it, Light believed her completely.

"My driving is more than adequate, Light-kun." L answered in that patronizing tone that Light hated. Still, they were moving again, and he was the one shifting.

"Until we get pulled over, and you get arrested for blowing something way over the legal limit." Light countered with perfectly good logic.

L stared at him via the rearview, a playful, knowing grin on his face. "Me? Arrested?" He asked.

"Yes," Light bit back impatiently. "_Ryuzaki_ will be arrested and then thrown in jail like the law-breaker that he is. And there, he will eat jail-food, take communal showers, and play hide the one-eyed snake with his very big, and very _lonely_ cellmate who's currently awaiting trial for rape."

"Ah, Light-kun is so graphic. Maybe it's because he is so _knowledgeable_ about Japan's penal system, or perhaps that very scenario is something that upstanding, perfect Light-kun likes to fantasize about when he's bored?" L asked as if he were genuinely curious.

"Says the pervert who likes to keep me chained to him every minute of the day, so he can–"

The car came to an abrupt halt, the unexpected jolt putting an end to Light's alcohol-loosened tongue.

"We're here." L announced, cutting the engine and pulling the parking brake up. And before Light had time to vacate his seat, L was already scrambling in-between the seats. Tess was just about out of the car entirely, and L took the opportunity to have a little 'talk' with Light.

Which, to Light's dismay, consisted of climbing on top of him and jamming one of his knees into Light's midsection _accidentally_.

"Excuse me." L apologized falsely when Light gave a little grunt.

He reached for the door handle, but Light had other ideas. Stilling him by a handful of his shirt, Light jerked L backward and prone into his lap; something that would never have happened with a sober L. Still, he flailed about like a defenseless spider on its back.

"You're not getting off that easily, _Ryuzaki_." He stared down at the older man, mischief lighting his amber eyes even in the darkness of the vehicle. It was usually around this time of the night that L and Light found themselves alone in their room, and Light's body, used to the routine, made no bones about letting him know that it was their _bedtime. _And this was just the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

"Not stuck here with you, I'm not." L sulked, slapping at impatient hands that the sound of Tess' door closing had emboldened.

"Is that so?" Light asked in a sing-song voice, borrowing one of L's favorite phrases as his hands struggled against L's to take advantage of something else that belonged to the detective.

L's legs might be stronger than his own, but when it came to upper-body strength – Light had him beat. And their current circumstances embodied that perfectly, with Light winning out over L by capturing his wrists and pinning them against his chest.

"Light-_kun." _L tried, putting as much warning in his voice as he could muster, given his subjugated condition.

But Light knew better. Bending his legs, which in turn elevated the knees that currently supported L's weight, Light brought L just close enough so he could lean over and cut the other boy's protests short with an eager kiss.

Eager and clumsy, thanks to their inebriated state. But the inelegance of it didn't detract in any way from the affect the contact had on both of them. Any semblance of resistance that L might have had in him vanished as quickly as it had shown itself. And the minute he felt L give up the fight against his hold, Light released his wrists and delegated all of his attention to the hot, inviting mouth being offered up to him in drunken abandon.

L was never much of a giver . . . not when it came to him. So when Light found L suddenly very amenable, he was sure to capitalize on the opportunity without a second thought. Besides, if he knew L at all – it wouldn't last very long.

And it didn't. As soon as breathing became an issue, and they broke, L was quick to right himself – like a cat desperate to avoid being on its back – without a word.

But instead of going for the door, like Light assumed that he would, L turned back around and climbed back into Light's lap; this time settling himself astride Light's thighs.

Light looked up at L, making a deep, satisfied noise in the back of his throat. "Hook, line, and–"

"Shut up."

Cold fingers formed themselves around Light's jaw line, tilting his head slightly and holding it still. For payback.

And payback was brutal, coming in the form of harshly pressed lips and a wicked tongue that completely devastated Light's sanity. Something he expected . . . even wanted for. L was power hungry . . . wasn't happy unless he was in complete control; and Light found that so intensely exciting that he often deliberately pushed the detective just to be on the receiving end of that drive for dominance. Because really, who was he to argue with biology? When it came to _this_, there was nothing that could incite such a reaction out of him like L's mastery of him could.

And in testament to that, Light's hands fisted L's shirt and tugged vigorously while he opened his mouth a little more, urging his assailant for more. But L did just the opposite, disengaging himself from Light's mouth entirely and ignoring the little protest caught in Light's throat.

"Tess is waiting for us."

Hands left him, moving passed him to brace themselves against the backseat for support.

"Let her wait." Light half-mumbled, more interested in pulling L back against him by the front of his shirt. L resisted, at least until fingers decided to creep their way under his shirt to graze along _that_ spot right above the hollow of his hip. L had a lot of them, but it was always that one that did him in, even when all others failed.

Now was no exception. Leaning into Light, L forced the teenager's head backward as far as it would go with the pressure of his mouth. And Light responded greedily, his hands working at pulling L's shirt up instead of down this time. He couldn't help it – Light knew what waited for him beneath the thin fabric . . . he knew what that was pressed up against his stomach – and he couldn't wait to have it.

The door opened on them suddenly, and light from an above street lamp flooded into the car. Both of them turned to look, staring at Tess like deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

"You boys sure you don't want to just drop me off?" She asked nicely, smiling from ear to ear.

"Absolutely not." L replied with authority, as if he weren't in a most compromising position on Light's lap. With all the dignity in the world, L removed himself from Light's clutches and crawled out of the vehicle, only looking back to lock the car with the remote. He didn't even wait for Light to gather his wits, instead forcing the boy to scramble behind him to avoid being jerked by the chain.

"Let's go." He told them both, leading Light by his steel leash and grabbing onto Tess' wrist on the way to the door.

* * *

_ . . . _


	7. Who's Cockblocking Who?

**Tunes in Profile:**

_Tie a Yellow Ribbon Around The Old Oak Tree

* * *

_

**Who's Cockblocking Who?

* * *

**

Tess was having . . . issues.

Light observed from where he leaned against the opposite wall as both Tess and L struggled to find the right key for her door. Tess was busy rummaging through her wallet, mumbling something about _all these keys_; and L's bony form was knelt down in front of her door, apparently having been designated as the _try this key_ person.

It was going to be the last key. It was _always_ the last of something in this kind of situation. That is, if they ever made it to the last key.

Tess handed down another key to L, and L handed the key he'd just tried back to her. And as Light watched, Tess took the already tried key, and put it _back_ in her wallet with the rest of the untried keys.

It was, most likely, the funniest thing he'd seen all day. And watching these two drunken idiots try their best to find the right key was getting more hilarious by the second. Light wondered, just when was L going to catch on?

"Tess . . . "

It took every ounce of self-control Light had not to suddenly burst out laughing. Here it comes . . .

"I think I've tried this key already." L held it up to his face, turning it this way and that. "Yes, I'm sure of it. Give me another, please."

L passed that one back up to her, never looking up, and waited patiently for a new key. When it hit his palm, L took a hard look at that one, too. And after a moment of what looked like intense concentration on his face, L twisted his head to gaze up at Tess.

"What are you doing with the keys I'm giving back to you?" L asked her with way more patience than Light would have had with the situation.

Tess hesitated, a confused expression creeping onto her lovely face, and looked down into the wallet in her hands as if it were some strange, alien thing. And then it finally hit her befuddled brain, and she gave a little stamp of her foot.

"Oh . . . _shit_. I'm sorry, I . . . didn't realize." Tess told him in a plaintive little voice.

"It's all right," L cooed in a soothing voice that belied the way he continued to eye her queerly.

He was afraid she might start crying, and Light was right there with him on that. A sniveling female . . . an intoxicated, sniveling female . . . would be disastrous. And if she pulled a _Misa_? Not good.

Light pushed himself from the wall to close the short distance between them and rested a calming hand on her shoulder. "It's really okay, Tess. These things happen to the best of us." _He'd_ never done anything so stupid, but there was no reason to tell her that. "Would you mind?"

Tess brightened immediately, and practically shoved her wallet into his extended hand, no doubt relieved that someone else was taking over such a strenuous task. Light pulled it apart – it was really a nice wallet – and moved to stand behind L to start with the first key.

"No." L replied brusquely when Light dangled the first key in front of him. Putting that one _aside_ in his pocket, he tried another.

"No." L repeated, and away that one went too.

A handful of keys and a much heavier pocket later, L finally snatched a silver key from his fingertips that he apparently didn't recognize. Very carefully, because he wasn't all that steady in that squat of his, L poked at the lock with the tip of the key until – _finally_ – that key slid home.

Tess closed her eyes, let out a deep sigh of relief, and almost toppled over from the vertigo the action engendered. Light reached out to steady her, but she'd already caught herself with a quick hand to the door frame.

L, too, let out a sigh. But Light suspected his came more from impatience than relief. Apparently, he'd caught on to the whole _I don't need to try so hard_ thing, and now just wanted to get things rolling. And Light couldn't agree more, though he had enjoyed the little detour of entertainment these two had given him.

L straightened, wobbled briefly, and then walked into Tess' apartment as if he owned the place. Tess went next, her hands seizing hold of the chain behind L, and then Light followed, closing the door quietly behind him.

Her apartment was, to say the least, massive. At least from what Light could tell if the entry foyer was any indication. Instead of a small area for shoe removal, there was an entire room set off to the side for the ritual, and it accommodated the three of them easily. L was the first out, given that all he had to do was kick his tennis shoes off, and he continued on to the next room on his own . . . as far as the chain would allow him.

"Is he always like that?" Tess asked in a slow, careful voice as she worked at removing her own powder pink sneakers.

"Yeah. Sorry about that." Light apologized for the detective as he picked up the man's shoes and put them where they belonged. "He's . . . special." Light had no idea why he said that – it just popped out.

"Oh, no worries. I totally love it. He's got char-ac-ter." She broke the word up, trying her best not to slur it.

Character? L? While Light would agree that he _was_ a character, he wouldn't say that he _had_ character. Where the hell did she see _that_?

Light didn't bother asking – he was too weirded out - and just went about untying his last shoe. He just finished undoing the laces and was about to step out of it when the cuff around his left wrist tightened. The chain had reached its limit, and the links could be heard scraping against the door frame they were currently wrapped around. Light lost his balance, and just barely managed to catch himself on the wall behind him before he landed on his ass.

"Wait a minute!" Light called into the next room, thoroughly irritated with L's insistent summoning of him like he was some kind of wild animal. Could he at least have the time to take his damn shoes off properly? "You'll ruin her walls!"

The tugging stopped, and the chain slacked just a little.

"It's all right. He won't hurt anything." Tess gave before giggling at the both of them.

Light righted himself, and quickly removed his last shoe before L started up again. "That's not the –"

A sharp yelp cut off both him, and Tess' laughter, and Light looked up sharply to investigate.

"Tess?" He asked her, not quite sure what to make of the pained expression on her face.

"Fine." She ground out, and then smiled a moment later as if to reiterate that she was indeed fine.

Light wasn't convinced. Did the girl have some kind of syndrome, or something? Was that why she was single, despite how gorgeous she was? No. Light suspected these sudden . . . attacks of hers had something to do with that remote she gave L. But what, exactly, Light couldn't fathom. Which was fine – he'd find out eventually.

Light straightened, and helped Tess to her feet. She was warm beneath his fingers, and she smelled fucking _fantastic_. It was definite girl-scent, mixed with something else he couldn't readily identify. Sweet and spicy, like gingerbread. Or cinnamon. And though Light wasn't real big on the sweets, he found it suddenly very delicious.

And the way she was staring up at him now, with those smoldering chocolate eyes of hers and those cherry-red lips, Light was just about ready to say the hell with it all, and pound this chick into the wall behind them relentlessly.

"Light-kun."

Light almost jumped – he hadn't heard the detective sneak up behind them, or noticed the excess play in the chain that came with his presence. And how he hated that voice sometimes, and the person attached to it.

"Coming." Light replied, separating himself from Tess.

_Not soon enough_.

* * *

. . .


	8. Love or Hate?

**Tunes in Profile:**

_Kiss_

_Head_

* * *

**Love or Hate?**

* * *

Just as Light suspected, the rest of Tess' flat was very . . . posh. Stylish and spacious, and yet it still managed to have a somewhat cozy feel to it.

The layout was the typical box, the center being the living room. Set in the east wall, was a fireplace, which Tess brought to life with a click of a button. In the left corner of that same wall was a door, which Light guessed led to the master bedroom. Perpendicular to that was the north wall, which consisted of floor to ceiling windows and a set of double French doors that led to the terrace. No curtains . . . just sliding shoji doors that were currently half open. The west wall, opposite of the fireplace, consisted of a series of corridors and doors that Light assumed divided the rest of the apartment from the living area.

The south wall was just that . . . a wall that was cut just a little short by the entry foyer from which the three of them emerged. And when Light looked to the corner there, he found the leisure center where she kept her television and other such electronic objects.

Beneath his feet was hardwood flooring, instead of the traditional tatami matting, that appeared to be mostly covered by expensive-looking area rugs. The furniture on top of those was just as elegant. Two black sofas, that Light just _knew _L was going to put his feet all over, were positioned in a loose L shape – one facing the fireplace and the other facing the television on the south wall. Beside them was a cream-colored one-seater, whose comfort level probably rivaled that of a cloud's.

If they ended up crashing here, Light was _so_ curling up in that thing.

The chain at Light's wrist swayed, and Light was reminded that - _no he wasn't_. He was going to have to sleep wherever L chose to put him, and chances were it wasn't going to be where he wanted.

L continued forward into the living area, pulling Light with him to one of the sofas. Tess, on the other hand, excused herself for a moment and took herself off to her bedroom.

_Please don't sit all fucked up_, Light thought as he watched L approach the sofa in front of the fireplace. Not that Light was embarrassed, it was just that it was incredibly rude to sit like that on _other _people's furniture, and he wasn't sure how Tess would handle it. Light knew that if L pulled a stunt like that in _his_ house, his mom would beat the boy black and blue with her broom.

Light wondered briefly if he could somehow manage to get the detective to visit his house, because that would be something he would _love_ to see.

But then L sat, and it appeared as though he did have at least some semblance of respect for furniture that wasn't his own. Though, it didn't look like he got the opportunity to exercise it often, given the awkward way in which he tried to get comfortable. He turned this way, and that. He tried sitting on the edge of the cushion, and he tried sitting all the way to the back. And finally, after twisting around to look under his ass as if he couldn't possibly understand what was happening, L just stood back up and returned to default position – slumped, with hands in pockets.

"You need therapy." Light told him simply, making a dramatic display of collapsing into the cushions beside L and getting comfortable. Yep. Clouds.

"You have Tess' keys." L replied randomly, twisting his head this way and that to investigate his surroundings.

Light blinked. He'd completely forgotten about those things weighing down his pants, damn alcohol. Standing back up, he dug into his pocket to retrieve the metal objects and deposit them on the table beside the settee.

"Do you like it?" L asked, turning back around to watch Light at his task.

"Like what?" He set the last of them on black lacquered wood, careful not to scratch the finish.

"Her home, Light-kun." L clarified in a bored tone, sounding annoyed that Light didn't know immediately what he was talking about.

Light sat back down, setting himself into the cloud once again. "Yeah. It's nice." Meh. It was the best he could come up with at the moment.

"Nice?" L asked, clearly looking for something more. "Wouldn't you say that it's . . . perfect?"

"Eh?" Light looked around again. "Yeah, I guess you could say that." He didn't know what L was getting at . . . he didn't care. He just wished Tess would hurry up with whatever she was doing.

L still stared at where Light put the pile of keys, his eyes fixed and intense. "Too perfect, maybe." L thought out loud as Light did his best to ignore him. He reached out to drag a fingertip across the smooth finish, and then picked up one of the keys.

And before Light knew what he was about, L dug the sharp tip of the metal into the wood and keyed a diagonal line along one of the corners.

"Are you insane?" Light chastised in a hushed tone before sitting up to snatch the key from L's fingers. "Why would you _do_ that?"

"I told you already. It was too perfect. Now it's not. Now it has . . . " L looked up, fingers finding their way to his lips where they pinched the delicate skin in thought. ". . . _character_."

Light made a conscious effort to close his gaping mouth, and then began removing the keys from that table. Of course Tess would notice it, but Light didn't want her to notice it until _after_ they were gone. So he laid the keys on the matching cocktail table in front of them, in exchange for one of the magazines there that he used to cover the scratch.

"Light-kun doesn't understand?" He heard L ask him, and Light could just feel those nightmarish eyes burning holes into the top of his head.

No, he didn't understand. He didn't _want_ to understand. There was just some things about L that Light would never get . . . that _no one_ would _ever _get, and that was just fine with him. Because, when Light thought about it too hard, it unsettled him like nothing ever had. And given that he had to be _chained_ to this lunatic? That he had to sleep beside him?

No, Light was better off not knowing. L was, without a single sliver of doubt, Coyote Crazy. The less he knew about the inner workings of such a deranged mind, the less likely he was to attempt gnawing off his own hand in his effort to escape.

"Drop it, Ryuzaki. I'm sure whatever it is, it's warped and twisted . . . and I don't want to know about it." Light scooted his way to the other end of the sofa, both to distance himself from the evidence and to dismiss the culprit responsible.

_Damned_ detective. Why was he always going behind him to fix whatever he screwed up like some kind of servant boy? Why was he always enabling him?

"Poor Light . . . always so obsessed with appearances. Always so serious." L commented to the wind, using his name in a way that he knew Light hated.

Which was fine, because he wasn't biting. There was only one occasion he planned on rising to tonight, and no words were required for that.

Light stood up suddenly, and made his way around the sofa, paying not a bit of attention to the chain. "I need a drink. You're tainting my high." He tossed back over his shoulder angrily before he approached Tess' door. He could hear her talking in there – she was on the phone?

"Tess . . . do you have any alcohol?" He called through the door, barely noticing the chain slacken as L came to stand behind him.

Her conversation paused, and then, "In the kitchen. Help yourself."

Light grabbed the slack in the chain, and turned. "Come on."

And much to Light's relief, L followed without incident. At least until they reached the west wall, where L paused and turned his attention to one of the cream-coloured doors.

"It's closed for a reason." Light told him, hoping the stern tone of his voice would deter any further detrimental ideas. But, Light realized when L approached the door and tried the handle anyway, it was useless. He was a child trapped inside a man's body, and Light couldn't take him _anywhere_.

"But not locked. Hurry up." L demanded in a low voice, pushing the door open quietly and stepping inside – dragging Light with him.

When Light switched the light on, bright pink assaulted his eyes. Pink. Pink everywhere!

"Another female." L said, already shuffling his way across the room toward a large dresser set against one wall. Light had no choice but to follow, the tatami mats here nice and warm under his feet.

The dark-haired snoop wasted no time in pulling the top drawer open, and Light figured since he was already here and powerless, he might as well be nosy too.

"What the . . ." Light's voice trailed off lamely as he approached the dresser, his eyes growing to match the size of L's.

Phallic objects, their name Light couldn't even bring himself to say, littered the drawer in all shapes and colors. Big ones, little ones, plastic ones . . . even what looked like rubber ones. Most were stand alone, but a few others looked to be attached to some kind of harness. Light couldn't even imagine what those were used for.

"These girls are a couple of freaks!" Light whispered, both disgusted and oddly excited at the same time. Really, who needed _this_ many of them?

L, having been just as transfixed as he was, stirred beside him, and looked to be reaching into his pocket. A moment later, he produced that little black remote Tess had given him, and held it out in the palm of his hand.

Light stared, his eyes moving from the remote to the plethora of _things_ behind it, until it finally smacked him in the head. "_That's_ what that thing is!?"

L shoved it back into his pocket. "You couldn't figure it out?" He asked, amused.

"_No_. I don't know the first thing about . . . women's stuff." Light turned to pin narrowed eyes on the older boy beside him. "And you wouldn't have known either, if she hadn't _told_ you what it was."

"That's not true," L responded with a smile just barely turning his lips up. "Misa has one."

For once, L had thoroughly and completely stupefied Light into silence. All he could do was glare back at the detective, who had just admitted to having _secret knowledge_ about _his_ supposed girlfriend that Light himself didn't even know, and with not a twitch of his fucking face!

If he cared anything at all for the girl, he'd black L's eye right this instant. But he didn't, so instead he just . . . let it go. For now, at least, while they were sneaking into some strange girl's bedroom to stare at her enormous penis collection.

L turned from him, keeping his eyes on the younger boy a moment more before sliding them back to the task in from of him. Pushing that drawer closed, he moved down to pull open the next one.

_This guy!_ He really _was_ a pervert. Was he going to steal some of her panties, too? Light hoped not, because he just couldn't handle anymore surprises right now, and he really needed that drink.

L dove his hands into this drawer, rummaging through tiny pieces of lace in all colors – pink, black, red – until finally his hands surfaced with what he'd apparently been looking for.

A pair of black, silk stockings.

"Perfect." L purred, sounding very satisfied with himself.

Light scoffed. "Can't have that. Maybe you should put a run in them."

L ignored the dry sarcasm in his voice, and started undoing the knot with those long, capable fingers of his. And as he watched, L's plan began to slowly form itself within Light's own brain. He knew exactly where this was going.

_Screw it_.

Light was already caught up, and there was just no sense in backing out now. He'd come here on a mission, damnit, and he wasn't about to let his moral principles get in the way. So he reached in a grabbed a second pair, an epiphany suddenly lighting up his brain. He knew what L was up to, and he could do him one better.

As quickly as he could manage while still remaining efficient, Light untied the knot in the pair he'd picked up and stuffed one stocking into his pocket; the other he hid in the bottom of the drawer. L did the same, only shoving both loose stockings in his own pocket.

Light wasn't crazy about the fact that he'd let L corrupt him . . . _again_. But now he was _really_ into this, and now he knew just how he was going to approach the situation.

L pushed the drawer shut and inclined his head toward Light. "How about those drinks, Light-kun."

Indeed. How _about_ those drinks? He gave a nod, and turned to leave. "Let's go."

Switching the light off, he waited for L's slumped, leisurely form to pass by him before exiting himself, and closing the door silently behind him. This time, L led – choosing the corridor closest to them. And lucky him, it opened right into an oversized kitchen that looked like it had never been used. Cherry wood cabinets and stainless steel was the décor here – much like the kitchen back at headquarters.

"Ah, here we are." L announced, bending down to sift through the alcohol bottles he'd found inside the island cabinet. "Preference?" He asked Light over the soft _clanging_ of glass bottles hitting one another.

Light leaned over the island, looking at the top of L's head from above. "Something strong."

Suddenly, two bottles were produced, and set on the black marble countertop above. A private stock sugar rum, it's color a dark brown; and a bottle of clear vodka. Next came three glasses, designed specifically for spirits. L pushed one of them towards Light, and kept the other two in front of himself.

"I'm watching." Light informed him in an authoritative voice, observing the older man closely as he unscrewed the cap and began pouring the rum into his two glasses.

"I see that," L shot back, glancing up at him as he moved to fill Light's glass. "I've changed my mind about that, anyway. The alcohol should suffice." He set the rum bottle aside, and picked up the vodka. "I hear mixing alcohol has a similar, intensely intoxicating effect. Have you heard that, Light-kun?" L asked conversationally.

He had, and Light wasn't surprised in the least to see L pouring the vodka in with the rum in Tess' glass. He'd known L had gotten the idea as soon as he'd mentioned the drinks Light had wanted. And it made sense. If he couldn't drug her, he'd get her good and smashed.

"Here," he pushed Tess' drink toward Light. "So as to alleviate any further suspicion you might have of me."

_Oh, the irony, you sick bastard_. Light swallowed the words with a gulp of his drink. Make that two gulps. No . . . three.

"Because," L continued, turning around briefly to retrieve the sugar canister behind him. "I don't think I could tolerate such a constant mistrust of myself when there's no reason for it." He busied himself with dumping a few spoonfuls of sugar into his rum. "You handle it very well, Light-kun. Almost too well." L mumbled the last as he mixed the sugar into his drink with the spoon.

And then, he wrapped his fingers around the glass, brought it to his lips, and took a swallow. That turned into two, then three, then _four_. Light watched as his head steadily leaned back, his pale throat constricting . . . his Adam's apple working underneath that ashen skin, until the glass was empty and set back down onto the countertop with a sharp sound.

"You'll regret that." Light remarked, choosing to ignore L's harassment of him, before taking another _sip_ of his drink. He enjoyed the competition between them, but downing an entire glass of hard liquor was lunacy, and Light wasn't that bold.

L dragged his sleeve across wet lips and around his jaw line, making sure he got the little trickle that had not made it into his mouth. "Only those unsure of their actions experience regret."

Light leaned forward, keeping his voice low. "You're right, so let's be clear. Are we _sure_ we want to go through with this? Because if you have even the least little bit of doubt, I'm ready to walk right out of that door and go back to headquarters."

"I always have doubts, Light-kun. You know that." L admonished back at him, truthfully.

"So think about it. Can you see yourself doing to this girl what we're about to do?" Light wanted L to be _absolutely_ sure, because when it came right down to actually going through with it – he wasn't.

L thought about it – or at least he pretended to think about it, Light wasn't sure which – then nodded. "Yes. One hundred percent sure."

Light raised an eyebrow at that. "So does that mean like a _thousand_ percent or something?"

And L smiled. Not one of those crappy _is it there or isn't it_ pieces of a smile, but a genuine, full-fledged, probably drunken . . . smile. "Exactly. You're catching on."

Light couldn't help himself – he smiled back at the detective, and gave a little chuckle. Those smiles were so rare, and even as awkward as they were, Light always felt a little joy when he saw one. And seeing it now – any apprehension that he'd had in the recesses of his brain suddenly dissipated, though Light couldn't tell if that was really from the L's confidence, or if it was just the recharge of alcohol he'd had.

It didn't matter either way . . . L was sure. And when L was sure about something, Light had the greatest confidence in the world.

He finished his own drink, set the glass on the counter, and picked up Tess'. "Alright then . . . let's get started."

* * *

. . .


	9. Ready, Set

**It reminded Light of a drug addict, jonesing one minute and then calming the next as they got their fix. And really, when he thought hard enough about it, it was the same thing. Tess didn't come wrapped in cellophane or distilled in a bottle; but she did come with the same promise given by any of those other vices – pleasure, and ultimately release**.

_I got déjà vu when I wrote this. If you recognize it from somewhere, please tell me.

* * *

_

**Tunes in Profile:**

_No Man - I Sport Fucked Her_

_Kiss_

_

* * *

_

**Ready . . . Set . . . **_  
_

The rum had gone down smooth, and Light welcomed the accompanying warming sensation in his belly that was quickly spreading its way throughout his body. His brain would be the last to enjoy it, and as long as L didn't completely blow his high again with his jabbering, that would happen very soon.

L knocked on Tess' door once, and then reached down for the handle despite the fact that Light hadn't heard any invitation of entry. But he didn't bother saying anything about it – he was done correcting the super slueth on social etiquette. L would never learn, or he'd never listen, and Light wasn't in the mood to waste any more of his time.

Besides, Tess wasn't really a person to him anymore anyway, so he didn't really much care if L was rude to her or not. There was no humanity behind that door . . . no beautiful and unique snowflake with a sweet smile and crazy hair. There was now only what she _represented_ to him – two hot little holes they would sport fuck for their own selfish catharsis.

And yes, Light decided, he was probably going to fuck her, too. Because why not? There was no reason not to have at her once he got his fill of watching.

Tess was standing in front of another terrace door, phone in hand, when she turned around to wave them in.

Her room was not what Light had expected. It was much larger than her roommate's – about the same size as the room he and L slept in – but it barely had anything in it. Very _spartan_. A heavy-looking dark cherry dresser, complete with mirror; a matching four-poster bed that looked like it could sleep six of him, its mirrored headboard cut into vertical square bars; and a bedside table on which sat a funky looking multi-colored lamp and an alarm clock. Other than the little bit of clutter on her dresser, and a few tasteless paintings – that was it.

And, thankfully, this room was not brightly colored like the other one, either. The few pieces of furniture present shared the same dark cherry as those in the living area, and her bedding wasn't pink – it was a dusky charcoal color. The walls were cream – which went perfectly with the other colors – as were the decorative pillows on her bed.

Really, the only thing here that screamed _Tess_ was that crazy lamp – its patchwork shade diffusing a soft amber light about the room.

There was a double-door closet to the right as he'd walked in, and a personal bathroom beside that. The opposite wall, Light noticed now that he looked again, was made up entirely of those tall windows – a single French door smack in the middle of them. Beyond them, the city below radiated with nocturnal life in a mosaic of fluorescent whites, pale blues, and bright yellows.

Tess stood in front of it, her back to them as she finished up her conversation with whoever it was she was speaking to.

Light stepped to his left, minding the glass full of L's concoction in his hands, and leaned against the dresser there. L, on the other hand, made straight for the bed – using the bedside steps to make his way to the top. And Light had to give him credit . . . he didn't just step onto the it like he'd expected him to. Instead, he stopped on the top step, and kneeled down to sink his knees into the side of the mattress. Apparently satisfied with that, he continued forward on all fours until he was at the foot of the bed – facing Light. The chain lay slack between them, leaving both boys with a respectable amount of freedom.

Light didn't hear a peep from the bed, even when L pushed his hands into the mattress and bounced lightly to test it. That meant it was a good one – firm and sturdy. Not that the one he and L shared wasn't nice – it was a great bed. But there was only so much it could take before it started to complain under their combined weight and forceful movements. Something that, Light had discovered, irritated the hell out of L to the point that he'd sometimes move them to the floor if things got a little too out of control.

Or the desk set in one corner of their room . . . that Light made a point to _never_ eat on again given the number of times L had bent him over the damned thing. He wondered if anyone else ever went in there when they weren't around? He hoped not. Otherwise, they'd get more than they bargained for when they put their hands on that tabletop; because Light was _just_ the right height for his–

"A fight broke out at Outer Heaven."

Tess' voice suddenly directed at them broke into Light's recollection. And a good thing, too, if that familiar tightening in his lower belly was any indication. He wasn't ready just yet – he had to make sure Tess drank her drink first.

"Really?" Light asked, pretending to be interested.

Tess nodded, approaching where Light stood and tossing her phone on the dresser. "Yep. Not twenty minutes ago. They had to shut it down."

Light offered L's poison to her, raising a thin eyebrow. "That's pretty serious. Lucky we left when we did."

He looked to L, who nodded his agreement as he sat back with his folded legs under him, hands resting on his knees – as if he were about to start praying to the sex God for Godspeed. He watched them like some kind of bird of prey, those blown pupils of his taking in absolutely _everything_. They tracked the exchange of alcohol from Light's fingers to hers, shifted up to observe Tess' expression, and then turned to fix their attention on Light himself.

"Totally. Thank you." Tess accepted the glass, and immediately set to work on putting it down.

Light found himself relieved to be rid of the burden, because he didn't know how much longer he could have held it without spilling even more alcohol on himself. That last glass was doing its job, and he was feeling woozy again, although a bit stronger than before. Those mixed drinks – they weren't bad. But their affect always seemed to lack something that only a good glass of straight liquor could accomplish.

Which Tess wasn't accustomed to, as evidenced by the grimace and soft hissing sound she made. Light didn't blame her. The rum he'd drank had given enough of its own burn – he couldn't even imagine what the combination L had made for her felt like going down. But she proved to be a little champ, and after a moment of getting the first swallow down, she went back for more.

Just as planned.

"So do either of you work?" Tess asked, turning from Light to L.

"I don't. I still live at home." No sense in lying about that – he had enough lies to keep straight as it was.

"And Ryuzaki?" she asked, taking another sip and turning to regard him over the rim of her glass. "What do you do?"

"I'm what some people would label Eurotrash, I'm afraid." He heard L tell her in a dark, silky voice. The voice all men used when talking about something they really didn't give a shit about because they were thinking about sex, and only tolerating the idle chatter _because_ of the hope for said sex.

And anything else said between them was lost to Light's ears, because L wasn't the only one thinking about sex. Not when the three of them were here in her bedroom, and all Light could smell was _her_ all over the place. The air was permeated with it – that spicy ambrosia of hers – and it wasted no time in sneaking itself into his inebriated brain, causing a sudden frisson of arousal to shoot down his core. What the hell? Why did _smell_ have to be the only sense to shoot straight to the brain without taking any detours?

Nevermind that Light just couldn't quite bring himself to look away from her ass. He'd never been much of an _ass man_ – which was clearly evidenced by the starving thing currently occupying Tess' bed – but what Light stared at now looked _very_ inviting. Those tight little blue-jeans did her curves _great_ justice, and Light hoped silently that they looked just as delicious _out_ of them as they did _in_ them.

Would she be the same light golden color beneath them that he saw on her arms and face? Would she be just as warm and tight as L was? Something he'd only experienced once, because the older man had disliked it and bitched the _entire_ time like some butt-hurt little kid, but remembered vividly as if it had happened just a minute ago.

Had she even ever let a man have her in that way? Would she now? Light hoped so, because if he knew L – she wasn't going to be given much of a choice in the matter.

But then again, the chit wasn't the sharpest of tools, so the two of them combined could probably _convince _her to do just about anything willingly. Something that kind of bothered him, and kind of didn't. Sure, she was a willing participant. Sure, she appeared very accustomed to this sort of spontaneous rendezvous. And sure, she seemed like she wanted to please both of them. But was this really okay, given her quickly deteriorating lucidity? They weren't physically forcing her or anything – she'd agreed on her own – but Light still felt a little like they were taking advantage.

Not enough to call it off, though. Tess was a nice girl, but he'd come entirely too far and put _way_ too much work into this to turn back now. He'd come here to watch L screw the living daylights out of a female, and to fuck her himself, and that was damn well going to happen if it _killed_ him.

The show must go on. He'd pick up the pieces of consequence and guilt later.

The objective his eyes had lazily fixed themselves upon moved suddenly – out of view – and it took more effort than Light thought was necessary for his eyes to readjust and follow.

Luckily, they didn't have to go far. Tess took a single step forward, toward the bed and the diabolical form of life sitting upon it, and leaned into the detective the rest of the way. And L, never one to sit back passively, craned his head and stretched his spine just enough to meet her the remaining ten percent.

Light had no idea what had been said – he'd been too busy scheming to listen. But clearly, the conversation had veered significantly from career choices and whatever other mindless droning human beings resorted to when in a questionable situation such as this. And now, watching his lover and soon-to-be conquest move in on one another silently – their lips gingerly touching in a test of compatibility before sealing together in a lazy, languorous kiss – Light wished he had paid better attention.

Fortunately, it wasn't some be-all-end-all soul kiss, so he hadn't missed much. As soon as it had started, it was done; and L hadn't moved at all except a little drunken sway and to steady Tess' hand above him so she didn't spill her drink in his lap. It wasn't until it was over that L leaned over to dig in his pocket and hand over that thing she'd given him earlier.

Light pondered over if he'd offered to exchange it for a kiss, and made a note to ask when all was said and done. It also occurred to him that it had gotten suddenly very hot in the room, and he pulled the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbow.

"Thanks. Did Light teach you?" He heard her ask as she backed off, and tossed the remote on her dresser next to her phone.

And L's eyes, that had remained open, shifted from following Tess to fixing themselves back upon Light. They looked like two black pearls, slightly murky from drink with a high-polished sheen. Light wondered if his looked just as dead and glassy.

"Yes." L replied simply before running his tongue across pink lips as though he'd just finished eating a strawberry or some such other favored food.

Light felt the tiniest swell of pride in himself at hearing L's answer. Damn straight he'd taught him how to kiss – from _scratch_. And it hadn't been easy, either; with the awkward boy constantly interrupting his lesson with stupid questions, or to wipe Light's mouth with his sleeve because it was always "too wet". He'd had to explain the difference between slobbery kisses, and dewy kisses.

He'd also explained the utter uselessness of keeping the eyes open, since he couldn't focus anyway, but apparently L had picked and chosen what to take with him from _that_ lesson. Typical L form.

" . . . Light?"

It took him a minute to notice she was speaking to him, having not even known that she'd turned around to address him. Light blinked once . . . twice, and then looked over to find Tess staring at him.

And L staring fixedly at her ass now.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?"

Tess was slow to respond, blinking back lazily at him. "I . . . don't remember now." She told him in a weak, indolent voice, and giggled at herself.

Light looked down to the glass in her hand – the last of its contents swishing precariously with her gentle pitching movements. She'd gotten through more of it than Light had thought she would, honestly.

"Here," he said sweetly, stepping forward to place a steadying hand on her shoulder and indicate her intoxicant with the other. "Finish your drink before you spill it."

Tess fulfilled his request dutifully, tossing the last down in several small gulps. She swallowed, wincing at the burn, and allowed Light to take the glass from her. He twisted around to his right, intent on setting it on a magazine on the dresser behind him; but his hand froze midway when he saw who was staring up at him from the cover of _Eighteen_.

_!!!_

Disgusted with himself for not seeing it before, and not to mention the little pit of revulsion forming in his belly, Light quickly turned it over face down and set the glass on its back cover that featured another mindless twat he _thankfully_ didn't know personally.

He turned back to Tess, mercifully quiet Tess, and reached out to pull her to him. He raised his left arm up and over her head, so the chain wouldn't get caught between them, and settled her in front of him as he leaned himself back against the dresser.

"So," he began in a casual voice. "Do you feel okay?" He gave her his most disheartening manner – a kind, _I really care about your feelings_ smile that he let squint his eyes a little. "I don't want you to be uncomfortable or anything."

Light let his hands fall to her hips, his fingers creeping just under her top to tinker with the golden chain around her waist. Just to gauge her reaction, because words were just that . . . words; and he didn't know if she would admit to having second thoughts or not. But such thoughts were unfounded, he realized, when Tess took right to him – pushing her body into his and winding her arms about his shoulders to clasp behind his neck.

She wasn't wearing anything under her shirt, he became very much aware of at the feel of breasts flattening against his chest, and the heat radiating from between her thighs to sneak up his leg told Light that the last thing she had for them was doubt.

Yeah. This girl _definitely_ had daddy issues. But if she wanted to substitute their physical love for what she didn't get from her absentee father, then Light had no problem with being her daddy for a night.

And L – he gave the term _sugar daddy_ a whole new meaning.

"Mmmhmmm." Tess tip-toed to hum hotly in his ear, her voice flirtatious and filled with all manner of filthy promises. Each one of them flashed through Light's mind, each more depraved than the last.

He felt her lips at his ear, and then her teeth gently tugging at the sensitive flesh there and arousal burned through Light's veins like jet fuel. The half-hearted effort going on between his legs went full-throttle, and Light couldn't help the stupid little grin that played on his face. He wasn't sure why; but he hadn't really expected the little minx to be such a turn-on.

He focused his attention passed her to settle on L. He was watching them intently, those striking eyes of his openly hungry and lecherous as they moved along Tess' body from her feet to her head. Like he was eyeing a particularly tasty, five-foot tall creampuff. Light wondered if the detective had a voyeurism streak in him just as he did.

With Tess busying herself with his ear and the side of his throat, Light saw no reason not to find out.

Abandoning her hips, Light moved his hands lower to the ass that he knew L had had his eye on all night. He splayed his fingers over the soft curves, and then grabbed under them to half-lift her against him. Tess breathed a lusty response against his neck, telling Light that she could feel his hard-on through his khakis, and nipped at his skin in answer.

He let her down, letting her settle her own weight back on her feet before he graduated to slipping his hands under the waist of her jeans to palm unexpectedly bare cheeks. They traveled as low as the tight denim would allow, his fingers just long enough to brush against a slip of cotton that covered what he knew L would eventually want. He had an overwhelming urge to force further and pull the material aside to touch her there – just a little – but Light ignored it until he could do it proper and no longer had to fight restrictive denim.

Prying his hands from inside her pants, Light went back to her hips to separate them from his own; just enough to get his hand between their bodies and feel for the fastening of her jeans. He pulled at it, hoping for a snap; but instead he got a button. And one of those tight ones, too, that took some effort to get both in the matching hole and out of it.

The modern day chastity belt.

"Take these off." Light unintentionally whispered to Tess when she detached herself from his person and looked down to see what he was about. She didn't process the request immediately, and when Light looked back up to her face . . . he could see in her eyes that L's cocktail of alcohol was beginning to ravage her higher brain functions.

Still, she tried. And with a little of his help, they both managed to get the button undone. He didn't bother with the zipper; he just jerked them apart so they hung open and loose around her waist.

"Turn around." Light commanded kindly, already spinning her around by the shoulders slowly. He bent his head to speak softly in her ear, "You're okay. I won't let you fall." Tess gave a slight nod, and Light snaked his chained arm around her waist to reassure her, careful to keep the cuff from digging into her side.

He hung his head over her right shoulder, and raised his eyes back to L. Tess must have been staring at him, because L was staring at her face – his expression inquisitive . . . his eyes remarkably attentive despite the amount of alcohol he'd seen the man consume.

He was interested, so Light lowered his gaze to continue.

Hugging Tess closely against him, he dragged his free hand along the flat planes of her belly briefly before working his way up to outline a small breast through her shirt. They were perfect really - nothing more than a handful, soft and full - and if they weren't so pliable under his fingers Light would have assumed they weren't natural. Unlike someone else he knew whom he refused to name even in his head while he worked this girl up.

He cast a quick glance up to gauge L's attention level, because if the detective wasn't into this then he'd just throw Tess on the bed and let him have her. But L was just as entertained with toying with his catch as Light was. Black marble eyes followed Light's hand, and the brunet could see that his lips were wet from being licked by that sinfully skilled tongue of his. He shifted a little from one side to the other in discomfort, and just when Light was beginning to wonder how he could still sit like that when he knew how _not_ conducive it was to arousal.

His own was starting to get a little painful from its imprisonment, and _he_ wasn't wearing denim, despite how loose they looked when L stood.

Encouraged by L's reaction, which brought all sorts of delicious mental images to his brain, Light tugged at the material of Tess' top to wrench it free from under the arm that held her on her feet. Then it occurred to him that there was an easier way to go about it, so he let it fall and went for the straps on her shoulders instead.

Normally, it took a moderate amount of coaxing and kissing to get a female's shirt off. But this one either didn't need that kind of validating attention, or was too drunk to care. She just leaned against Light timidly, her head sort of pitched back and her eyes closed. Her breathing had become more pronounced, her breasts rising and falling provocatively with each inhale and exhale she took, and her mouth was partly open. And when Light slid one thin strap off her right shoulder and pulled the fabric down to expose a breast, Tess made a low noise in her throat.

It was . . . pleasant, actually. Different. Not at all like those annoying whines that were so common in his race . . . high-pitched squeals that a wounded puppy would make that made him want to tuck his prick in-between his legs and run. Light could never quite understand how men found the noises women made at all enticing, when he only wanted to shrivel and die when he heard them. Now he knew, and Light put a mental check under 'Pros' on his checklist of Pros/Cons for tonight.

And points for L since he steered them away from Japanese women.

Tess squirmed against him suddenly, and when Light didn't react fast enough, she slipped off the other strap and pulled her top down to bunch at her waist. Apparently impatient to be touched, she ran her own palms over tight, pink nipples and arched against him – making more of those sexy sounds that set Light on edge in a wonderful way.

He didn't dare disturb her, his gaze snapping up to L who stared at what her hands were doing like he'd just seen a white elephant walk in front of him, his mouth half open like he wanted to say something. Or like he'd just had one of those hands-free orgasms that Light had bet him he couldn't do, and _lost_.

He peered at L's face.

No, that wasn't it. L could be furtive; but not _that_ damn furtive. He was just surprised, like himself.

It completely threw Light's game off. What was he supposed to do with a female who didn't have any misgivings about teasing herself? It wasn't like he could query L on how to proceed – the dark-eyed detective looked like he was about to fall over in shock.

So he let her have at it, and instead concentrated on getting inside her jeans. He pushed at them – yanking them down first over one hip, and then the other – and shimmied them down her thighs to gather at her knees. Then he paused, his sluggish sex-crazed brain taking entirely too long to work out his next plan of action in getting rid of them.

"Lift her."

Light wasn't sure if L had actually said it, or if he'd just imagined that he'd said it, but it was a good idea either way.

Tightening his arm around her, he lifted Tess a few inches off her feet so she could wriggle the rest of the way out of her jeans and kick them to the foot of the bed. He set her back down, and moved his arm from her waist to cover her nipples, having reached his limit in watching her please herself.

"I like Snoopy." L commented, pointing at her when Light looked up at him in question.

He looked over her shoulder, and saw a little picture of the famous dog stitched into the front of purple panties. Thongs, actually, that had drawstrings on either side of them, and Light silently thanked no God in particular for that little piece of heaven.

He thanked this figment of man's imagination for her legs too, because they were _fantastic_. Clearly, she was either a dancer, or she was athletic. Not that Light cared in the least about her hobbies - he just cared that she had good-looking legs . . . because that typically meant _flexibility_. Which equaled, in his mind, interesting sex.

Tess laughed at them – a soft giggling that turned abruptly into a gasp when Light traced his fingers over the character on her panties delicately. He formed his hand to her, stroking and kneading what felt like a pillow on fire before going for the strings that held them in place – untying each knot with a simple pull of one strand so they fell to the floor at her feet. She strained against him, in an effort to bring him back to what she wanted him to touch, and gave a soft pouting sound when he didn't give in to her immediately.

"Shhhhh." Light soothed in her ear when she moved restlessly in his arms, put-out by his lack of attention. The girl's impatience made him want to forgo everything else, spin her around and throw her legs up, and shove himself into her right there on the dresser; and if she didn't stop grinding her ass into his erection, he was going to do just that. Light prided himself on his self-control; but with her pressing herself against the spot that sent his brain into seizures, he was going to lose it.

Luckily, Tess calmed and went slack – her capacity for extended lengths of movement severely shortened by alcohol. Which made it much easier for him to reach down with both hands between her thighs and separate silken, intensely hot flesh with his fingers; the sensation tensing Tess' body against him. He looked over her shoulder, and saw bright pink and skin as smooth as the day she was born.

A strong wave of excitement slammed into Light. Not only because he could feel against the tips of his fingers how ready she was; but because he could see it and _smell_ it, too . . . and it was all so much better than what he'd imagined. And he'd been hoping – _hoping_ – for a girl that practiced certain grooming rituals.

On a male . . . on L, he didn't mind the little patch of black curls around his sex. In fact, he preferred it. There was something decidedly adorable and quaint about it (at least until he pulled one out of his mouth).

But on a female? It wasn't nearly as sexy, and actually repulsed Light a little. So he sent up another quick thanks that Tess was everything he'd hoped she be and spread her for L to see.

"We like that, don't we Ryu?" Light dropped the English act and asked him in a slow, wicked voice; his fingers creeping and pulling as wide as her standing position would allow. He looked up to find L gazing at her with his head half-turned to one side – like he wanted to look away, but his eyes just weren't following where his head wanted them to go. He swallowed visibly, his Adam's apple jumping in his throat, and a flush was beginning to heat his cheeks.

He gave a little nod, his tongue darting out to wet lips that were now a darker pink color, and it only intensified Light's desire tenfold to see the reclusive genius so hot and bothered. It made him want to have a little more fun with him, to see how far he could push before L lost that inexhaustible cool of his.

Feeling his way around, Light flicked the tip of a finger across swollen ridges of slick, burning skin. He felt Tess jerk against him, a breathy _oh_ sound escaping her throat, and watched L startle a little as if it had been him Light had touched. He shifted his body from side to side, like he was sitting on hot coals, and finally detached his hands from his knees to curl them around the bed frame and lean forward.

Light observed, rapt with amusement, as L lifted his head a little and breathed in – like a male deer who'd just caught the scent of a nearby doe in the air. And he swore that he could see, right through those dark, wide eyes, the exact moment sex pheromone hit L's brain. He licked his lips again, as if he had the ability to taste it, and breathed out a deep, pleased sigh.

It reminded Light of a drug addict, jonesing one minute and then calming the next as they got their fix. And really, when he thought hard enough about it, it was the same thing. Tess didn't come wrapped in cellophane or distilled in a bottle; but she did come with the same promise given by any of those other vices – pleasure, and ultimately release.

Tess slumped in his embrace, forcing Light to belay his musings and his exploitation of what she had to offer to hold her up properly. She wasn't out completely, as evidenced by the hands clutching onto his arm for support and the quiet inarticulate murmurings coming from her lips; but she had lost her ability to sustain her own weight on her feet without Light's arms back around her waist.

And he hadn't even gotten to show L the back yet. Pity.

Which was just as well since L was no longer content to sit back and watch. He crawled his way over the bed frame and landed on the floor with a little hop to pad unsteadily the few steps between them. His eyes were on Light, and Light's were on the very obvious indication of the detective's arousal. Not the least bit embarrassed about it, he slid one pale hand under the waistband of his jeans to shift his erection into a more comfortable position – upward, Light assumed.

Really, he should just take his pants off entirely. Not only because Light wanted to see that delectable (devastating) manifestation of manhood that L had deprived humanity (himself) of for so long; but because it was the practical thing to do. There was, in his opinion, no sense in waiting until things got messy.

But L had his own way of doing just about everything, and tonight was more for him than it was himself. Light could take himself down to one of the local hostess clubs or out to the cabarets and pick up any whore he wanted . . .

Actually, so could L, too, probably. Dark and pale and boyish was in at the moment; and there was always some hot chick on the prowl for something adorable and wounded she could save. And any woman who could get passed his external appearance would find themselves in for a _nice _treat, and would no doubt come back for more of the way those narrow hips could move.

Looking at him now, Light didn't think it was too much to say that if L changed a few things here and there - like combing his hair, wearing clothes that fit, and getting rid of that lazy slouching - he'd have no problem getting his prick wet on a regular basis. Maybe even become a highly sought after debauchee.

The mental image that accompanied that thought Light quickly rubbed out of his mind. It was all wrong. L wouldn't be quirky little L anymore, and Light wouldn't have him all to himself anymore, either. And to hell with that - Light didn't like sharing, and he didn't want some other snot-nosed kid slobbering their filthy mouth all over _his _toy.

He squeezed Tess in his arms. Well, maybe just this once.

* * *

The views expressed by Lightin this chapter do not reflect those of the writer.


	10. Sex!

**He looked down at the pale, slim body; watching closely that face tilted up at him as he parted legs at the knees. Light couldn't count the number of times he'd fantasized about L in this exact same position – breathless and sweaty and begging to be fucked. Of course, the begging part was absent, but everything else was in its place . . . right down to the positively scandalized expression L wore at being spread open like some lusty whore.**

_  


* * *

_

_**Tunes in Profile:**_

_Computer Blue (Part 1)**  
**_

_Darling Nikki (Part 2) - _THE song responsible for parental warnings on albums.

* * *

**. . . Sex!**

**

* * *

**

Tess squirmed in Light's arms, reaching out to grab air like a child who wanted to be picked up, until L shuffled close enough for her to fist fabric at his shoulders. She reined him in, turning their hot and guilty duo into a downright deviant trio.

L didn't seem bothered by the affection as he allowed Tess to cupcake up with him, so close that Light could feel the cotton of his shirt and the heat of his belly pressing against his arms.

He could smell the detective now, too – rum and cherries and that smell just before it rained and the musk of male excitement all fused together – and the way it mixed with Tess' arousal made the muscles in his lower stomach tighten of their own accord. The result was a slight jump of his erection, and a pleasurable sensation that began at the tip and suffused all the way down to his ass. Rough, dissonant cords of lust sang throughout his blood in accompaniment – tweaking sensitive strings and resonating in the darkest of places along its journey.

And it wasn't until that moment and that stirring of a different kind of awakening that Light became very aware of the fact that he really, _really_ wanted L to fuck him tonight, too. He tucked that desire away in the recesses of his mind for the time being, however, and concentrated his muddled brain on what was going on in front of him with great effort.

L surprised him – mostly because he'd forgotten about them – when he dug into his pocket and came away with a handful of black silk. He pulled the stockings apart with half steady hands, and stuffed one of them back into his pocket.

The other he smoothed out with fingers that appeared completely white against the black fabric before raising it to Tess' face. She didn't put up a fuss – closing her eyes obediently as he spread the material over them to obscure her vision entirely. He pulled the ends around to the back of her head to carefully tie them so as not to catch any of those wild curls in the knot.

Light _almost_ sympathized with her, despite the fact that she probably had no idea what was going on like he had when he'd been blindfolded. And when staring eyes transferred from her face to his in drunken assessment as he worked, he got the feeling that L knew precisely what he was thinking.

He became sure of it when one side of L's mouth curved in a lopsided, knowing grin. It made him want to drop Tess and slap that sharp, boyish face of his. But he tucked _that_ away for later, too.

Light leaned his head out of the way a little as L framed skeletal hands around Tess' face and tipped it back to get at her lips. He plucked at them, tasting and savoring like they were the top of an ice cream cone, before tilting his head and devouring the girl's mouth whole and any noise that came out of it. She melted against Light in response, and the male pride part of his brain beamed. He hadn't spent hours working at that mouth for nothing, and it was nice to see the fruits of his labor from a third person perspective.

. . . No . . . not nice. It was intensely erotic to watch L lick at and lightly suck on her lips, and then cover her mouth to draw her tongue into his own and push it back with his. Even more so because dark eyes were still staring at him, and Light could hear the faint, wet sounds of lips moving against each other. And that soft suction noise of lips parting and air sneaking that Light liked so much, too.

Pale fingers left brightly blushing cheeks to caress down Tess' body, testing texture and contour of her shoulders, her sides, her breasts. He grazed the pads of his thumbs over sensitive nipples, eliciting delighted murmurs that he gobbled up from her defiled mouth, and skimmed down to wriggle his hands between her ass and Light's thighs – cuff and all.

The brunet bit his lip at the touch of L's knuckles against him, while his hips arched into it without permission. It made Light jittery – his whole body charged with urgency and cathexis that only physical contact with his dark-haired captor could inflame – and there was really nothing else he could do but close his eyes and rub himself against L's hand to temper that fire. The sharp steel of the bracelet against him he simply registered as an extension of L's caress.

It hurt; but it was a satisfying kind of hurt. A pain his mind processed as thrill instead of threat.

Light liked to think of it all as an itch. It wasn't particularly useful in any way and really, it was a dysfunction more than anything. Usually caused by some irritant, something most likely disadvantageous to his good health. But he had to scratch it. And when he did, it felt good. Even when he went too far, and scratched his skin open and bleeding – inadvertently granting entrance to all manner of harmful agents.

It still felt _so fucking_ good.

So when L turned one of his hands to palm Light's arousal properly and rub back through the material of his pants, he just let his head fall back and moved against it mindlessly. Like he was some animal scratching itself against a rock out of pure instinct.

And damn the man for getting him worked-up just that quick and making him just as malleable as silly little Tess. Now it was _his_ breathing that sounded entirely too loud to his own ears; now it was _his_ spine arched back so he could push himself into L's hand; and now it was _his_ throat that produced barely stifled whimpering sounds like he was some kind of simpering female who fell apart at a man's touch.

Perfectly good planning out the window . . . just like that. All for the _sex_ of it. Chills of it. Thrills of it. Spills of it.

The both of them L disarmed just as easy as you please with those clever, capable hands of his and that silver-tongued mouth that no one was immune to; and if Light wasn't feeling so agreeable and subdued by the alcohol, he'd get pissed and rail about it. But as it was, he was just as content to hold Tess tightly and let L do whatever he pleased to them.

And the man's pleasure, unexpectedly, consisted of his fingers suddenly working at the fastening of Light's khakis – undoing the button and tugging them open. He felt them creep under the band of his boxers – searching for and then carelessly pulling free the worst (or best) hard-on of his young life - and heard himself release a rush of breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding when he felt the cool air of freedom and the electricity of L's touch.

The inside of the detective's hand was hot and clammy from sweat, but it _still_ felt slightly cool against Light's own overheated skin. Even when he curled his fingers around him and squeezed much harder than was necessary.

He tugged on it a few times, as if Light needed _any_ further stimulation to get the blood flowing, and then abandoned it to the heat of Tess' skin to push Light's pants and boxers down with both hands. Not far – just enough to free the rest of the anatomy attached to his cock to keep it from getting smooshed in the elastic of his underwear.

How thoughtful, Light's brain whispered wryly as it tried to figure out just what L was up to.

Then he realized, somewhere in that cloud of _what the hell_ swirling around him, that the quirky genius was moving. Or his head was, anyway. And when Light brought _his_ head back down to have a look at what was going on in his absence, he realized that L's hands were now just as busy as his mouth worked its way down Tess' throat. One buried its slender fingers between Tess' thighs to slide intuitively along the length of her slit, back and forth in slow, sweeping motions that made her jumpy between them; the other crept down one of her thighs. He was getting ready to yank it up and around his waist.

Which wouldn't have alarmed Light if he hadn't noticed that Tess had already found her way into jeans that hung entirely too low on L's hips. When had that happened? And L hadn't made a peep, despite how responsive Light knew him to be when his foreskin was tampered with.

She changed tactics and felt for the button – unfastening it as efficiently as Light had _ever_ seen someone so smashed and blindfolded pull off – and let slack jeans fall. She struggled to get blue-striped boxer shorts down his thighs, the waist band catching and then dragging down with it L's arousal.

Light's wildly beating heart damn near seized up when thin material was nudged down far enough for him to see, _finally_, all of L's length – thick and hard and delightfully intimidating. He was so inexplicably attuned to the stupid thing . . . it confounded him at times. It popped into his mind for no reason at all _at least_ twice a day, and at the most inopportune of moments sometimes, too. He'd be talking to one of the members of the taskforce – his father, usually – and all of a sudden . . . _cock_ out of nowhere. He'd often have no choice but to avert his eyes, out of fear that someone other than L might be able to see through them to what was going on in his double-crossing brain.

Another slap to some part of L's body that he tucked away.

Light shifted Tess in his arms, resettling her so she didn't slip or crush his own manhood the wrong way. And she paid him not a bit of attention as she searched blindly and eagerly for what they both wanted. It was kind of . . . _strange_ to watch. To see fingers other than his own paw at creamy thighs, distinctly lined hips, and then black fluff.

L relinquished his mouth's exploration of her and dropped his head to observe; his hands becoming idle but for small absentminded motions because his mind was clearly elsewhere.

Tiny hands fisted themselves around L's erection and pulled at the skin that covered it in that way that _all_ girls felt like they had to do when presented with one. Like it was just the _coolest_ thing on the planet, and therefore had to be played with and touched because they didn't have one and they needed to know how it worked.

And apparently, she'd just figured out how to handle it properly because _there_ was the reaction Light had expected to see at the sensation of tight skin manually gliding over wet, pink glans – back and forth, retract and sheathe. L watched her hands on him –all those clumps of dark hair drooped forward, his lips compressed together, the thin skin between his eyes wrinkled in intense concentration. Light could see his diaphragm pushing up air and sound that his closed throat turned into puffs that he could barely hear, because Tess flung her head back so fast she almost collided with the teen's and let out the most vocal cry of the night yet.

He'd known it was coming . . . had felt the push against himself when L forced his hand further in-between barely parted thighs to work one of those long, reaching fingers inside her. And he knew _exactly_ what Tess felt – that filling, rapturous pressure. And that thing he did with his finger, like he was tickling you from the inside, that made you want to not laugh; but lick your lips and scream the dirtiest things that came to your mind.

And her response was _so_ hot. Even when she adjusted, fueled his invasion of her body with her own assault on his, and practically purred in his arms with soft mewling sounds.

_And_ honestly, if the girl had any sense about her she'd cower from him; because L was about to tear into that petite little snatch of hers without mercy. And were they really about to do this right here on the dresser at this very minute? Couldn't they at least move to the bed first? Not that Light couldn't continue to hold Tess up – she wasn't at all heavy even for him.

But was this necessary? Out of all of his sexual fantasies, Light had never dreamed that they'd end up sandwiched together like this. He was . . . well, he was a _I keep my food separated on my plate_ kind of guy. Meat there. Carb here. Vegetable over there. So when he'd thought of a ménage a trios, he'd thought of a) watch L fuck and b) proceed to fuck next and then c) get fucked by L . . . maybe. All on a _completely_ different place on the time line that did _not_ overlap.

He had not planned on his piles being all mixed together. He had not planned on really involving himself, physically, in L and Tess' coitus. And he had most certainly not planned on doing it here, the dresser being incredibly heavy and sturdy notwithstanding.

. . .

Light took a deep breath, and tried desperately to slow his racing thoughts. He didn't know if it was because he was nervous when presented with the reality of what was about to happen, or if he was just unprepared and without a plan (because his plan was he didn't know where); but either way, he had to calm down. He shook his head a bit – a few strands of brown-sugar hair, stringy from sweat, falling into his eyes – and cleared his throat of the saliva he had completely forgotten to swallow until now.

He tossed his head up to get the hair out of his vision and shifted back to L, whom just happened to lift that leg of hers and hold it at his hip. His other hand withdrew from her to retrieve himself from Tess' hold, and she in turn grabbed on to his starved hips in preparation.

Up to the plate he stepped – his gaze glued to where he wanted to go, his fingers rolling back and teasing his foreskin just as they  
_always _did, and his legs widening as much as the jeans around his knees would allow.

Light lamented that it was her instead of him, even for just this one time. He wished he could get his hands under that shirt to scratch or his teeth to bite the way he knew L sometimes liked. He wished he could paint his lips with that deliciously wet tip so L could fuck his mouth with ease until he fisted golden brown hair, shuddered, and came.

But most of all, he wished he had a free hand so he could watch and listen and stroke and pretend that it was L's mouth on him – pulling and biting and sucking so damned _tight _Light felt like he was being turned inside out.

And oh, _shit_ this was moving so fast. Light wasn't sure what he'd been expecting; but being _this_ ahead of schedule wasn't it. Of course, it was only logical to get the first orgasm of the night out of the way, because they were always so unpredictable and hard to control, but . . .

It wasn't going to work . . . Light could see that as L pressed his body close to hers. Tess was too short, even with her leg pulled up like that. He must have realized it, too, because his eyes rose to meet Light's and he gave Light that _quiet, I'm thinking_ face.

And what a face it was. His hair, while normally suffering from at least some kind of disarray, was completely all over the place . . . from Tess' hands, Light guessed, when he hadn't been paying attention (damnit). Ivory skin looked sunburned even in dim light, which Light actually found quite charming, and his lips were just as dark and swollen as he'd ever seen them.

His eyes, too, were just as human and un-L-like – their appearance shining and open and an incontrovertible testament to the fact that L – apathetic, unruffled little L – was good and sopping drunk.

Hadn't he told him? _What_ had he said? _You'll regret that_. And Light didn't even feel sorry for him. He'd knocked himself off his pedestal, even after Light had warned him. You don't drink that kind of alcohol _that_ fast when you weigh all of, what . . . one-hundred, one-hundred ten pounds?

"I told you." He chastised the older man out loud, quite accidentally.

L smiled at him, stupid and awkward and uncontrollably as he stood there looking as though he was about to pitch one way or the other. "Told me . . . what?" he asked, slurring his words more than he had earlier.

"That you would–"

L cut him off, leaning over Tess and more or less assaulting his open mouth with his own. Light couldn't tell which of them actually swallowed his words. Maybe L got half, and Light got the other half . . . he didn't know. He didn't _care_. All that mattered now was L's cherry/rum flavored lips, the feel of Tess' warm skin against his length as L pressed her into him in his effort to get closer, and the husky sigh L breathed into his mouth as he pressed himself into her from the other side.

And just as honey eyes fell closed in indulgence, L's mouth left him and then Light felt a fingertip covered in something dewy and slick trace along his bottom lip gingerly. Delicate skin – oversensitive from being kissed – tingled where he touched, the sensation creating thrills of excitement that streaked down every single branch of nerves in his body.

Instinctively, he licked at his lips for a little taste. A reacquaintance that was wholly unnecessary because the flavor of L's own personal lubricant – a mixture of saltwater and freshwater, but viscid, a little gooey, and just a tinge bitter from all that coffee he drank – was nothing new to him. That L would smear it on his mouth with his finger was, however, very new and rather uncharacteristic. Especially when he did it a second time, and then hesitantly slipped his finger between now glazed lips, as if he were afraid that Light would bite.

He did bite – catching the slender digit between his teeth and playfully stroking with his tongue. He opened his eyes to see L's reaction, and found the detective staring at him with a mixed look of innocence and fascination.

Really, this was ridiculous . . . carrying on like a couple of schoolboys. Light made the decision right then and there – no more drinking for him. It turned his brain to pulp – a burial ground of wasted willpower and self-discipline – and made him entirely too bendable to L's will. He didn't want the man going around thinking he was easy, or anything. And he certainly didn't want to spoil himself and get too used to the arguably endearing antics of an intoxicated, completely unreserved L. God forbid if he fucked around and . . .

. . . caught feelings.

Light wasn't an idiot. He knew how easily it could happen – chemical reactions spilling out of one's mouth – and he also knew how disastrous it would be. L would see it coming from a mile away, and then there'd be no end to the ridicule he'd have to deal with on a daily basis.

He'd be . . . _Misa_.

Light shuddered. And L, taking it for something else, leaned in and captured his mouth for another stormy, completely unrefined kiss. The kind he really liked, because they weren't pretty or practiced or polished like the ones those silly females at school were so fond of. They didn't say, _I'm only kissing you because you're the hottest guy at school_, _and I want someone to see how good we are at this._

No. They were just wild and sometimes vicious and one-hundred percent _real_. And they only said one thing . . .

_Sex._ Hot . . . grungy . . . my-body-will-_never_-be-the-same . . . oh-_God_-fuck-it-harder . . . _sex._

If there was anything even remotely genuine or honest about the man, it was his all-or-nothing kisses. And that tongue, too, that emulated chaotically in his mouth exactly what he wanted to do to one, or both, of them while fingers formed around his jaw to keep his head still.

Light didn't fight him. Instead, he rewarded the invasion with gentle stroking from his own tongue, and sucked against L's mouth. As if he could inhale the man's very soul and keep it for his own. He made the noise in doing so, and L made the noise back – competing with him for who had the strongest suction.

L won and pulled back, taking Light's mouth with him before the brunet realized he should break the seal. He gave Light a brilliant look – one of those _I've got it!_ expressions that bore no similarity to what they looked like on a sober L.

"You'll . . . pick her up. Under her knees," he explained his bright idea in an uneven voice, appearing entirely too satisfied with himself. And then he pried his fingers from Light's face and went to grab her other leg.

"Wait . . . _wait_ just a minute." Light shifted his arms around a semiconscious Tess, and glanced down to see what L was trying to do. "I don't know if I can hold her that high. What's wrong with the bed?"

It was the truth. When she half-way stood on her own feet, Light had no problem. But L wanted him to hike her up to his chest and hold her like that? When it was much easier to just toss her on the bed?

"I'll help," L offered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. He didn't address the bed issue, though.

"Will you let me watch then, if I do this?"

L looked down at what they had going on between them, and then back up to Light, the confusion on his face clearly something conjured up for effect. "I don't . . . answer trick questions."

Light shook his head, and regretted it the second he'd done it. The room was going places on him. "Don't play that game – you know what I mean." He stuck his tongue out, and flicked it teasingly over L's inflamed lips before drawing it back into his mouth. "Show me." Light whispered the last, his voice cracking in his throat.

Under any other circumstances, Light would have _never_ lowered himself to _ever_ asking something like that. It was pathetic and needy, and he was none of those things. But when they said that alcohol loosened the tongue and inhibitions, they weren't lying.

So when L looked like he might refuse – his eyes narrowing at the brunet – Light destroyed his own pride even further.

"Please?"

It sounded just as lame out of his mouth as it had in his head. But damnit, Light wanted to again see what it was that L liked to hide, and there was no better opportunity to get it raw and unedited than now. And as fast as he was going downhill, the detective might not remember it at all anyway.

"Fine," he murmured unexpectedly against Light's mouth, and granted him another onslaught that rekindled in his body every single flame that had burned intensely moments ago. Light hung his mouth open, offering it up for the drunken and greedy way L moved over it, against it, into it.

Vaguely, he wondered sardonically if he should get the letter **'L'** tattooed on his body somewhere, to signify the complete dominance he was allowing his captor assert over him with not an iota of resistance. Maybe on the small of his back, or over his heart?

Yeah . . . that was _just _perfect.

L broke from him, taking Light's self-pity with him, and reared back to hike up Tess' other leg around his waist. Light steadied himself to handle the sudden imbalance of her weight, and then slowly unwound his arms to settle his hands at her hips.

"Hold her so I can get under her legs," he whispered like there were parents sleeping in the next room, and any minute her father was going to burst through the door with a belt in his hand.

L nodded, and bent forward so Tess could put her arms around his neck just as Light pushed her forward. The transfer from his arms to L's was really much easier than he'd thought it'd be, and that had a lot to do with Tess remaining able to help them somewhat.

L fought to keep himself stable on his feet, and moved his hands under her. Tess wasn't heavy – she probably didn't break one hundred pounds – but Light could tell that he wasn't equipped to hold her for very long. His small body had good momentum; but lacked brute strength. So Light was quick to settle his backside comfortably against the dresser, the heavy wood cold against his bare skin.

And then he heard the chain rattle faintly, and paused for just a second to look at it. He'd completely forgotten the thing even existed! It was the alcohol, no doubt, that made him numb to its physical presence, and their carrying on had made it impossible to hear.

Light ignored it, pushing it from his mind once again because it really posed no problem for them yet, and reached around Tess to grab hold of her legs pressed against L's hips. He worked his fingers under her knees, secure and firm, and pried her away to hold her against his chest. She looked like she was suspended in mid-cannonball – a curled up ball of legs spread and folded so her knees almost touched her shoulders, and arms that slid up and behind her to clasp around Light's neck. Her top was still bunched around her waist, useless and forgotten.

Light gave her just a second to adjust to this new, somewhat awkward positioning in his arms. But so far, so good.

The brunet leaned back against the dresser a little, to keep her from sliding down, and he could feel the vertebrae in her backbone against his chest. And when Tess dissented suddenly, and tried to uncurl herself and straighten her spine, they flexed and popped against him. He tightened his hold to keep her still, and L aided in splaying his fingers across the backs of her thighs and pushing her against him.

A lot like he did when he propped himself up on Light's folded legs when he had the boy on his back.

"Down." L commanded, impatient and breathless.

Light didn't think about how bizarre this was anymore and just obeyed, letting her slide down his chest and his stomach until he felt the heat of her right over his own arousal. If it'd been made of steel instead of flesh and blood, he almost certainly could have balanced her center on it. And it probably wouldn't be tingling where it actually brushed up against her skin, either.

L only made it worse when he curled his fingers under it and pressed the top of its length against her slit. Light's spine snapped back, the action unintentionally drawing his erection between L's hand and Tess' fissure. It made him dizzy, and brought him so close to lowering her just enough to line _himself_ up with her opening that he would have gone through with it if L's other hand wasn't holding her in place.

The detective's fingers let him go, mercifully, and traveled an almost nonexistent distance up to tease Tess instead. Now that she was spread and exposed completely, there was no part of her that wasn't fair-game. And he took full advantage of that – dragging his finger across damp and swollen skin.

Tess begged. And it wasn't that I'll _beg you because I know that's what you want_ begging, either. The things that came out of that girl's mouth Light had _never_ heard a female say in his _life_, and the way she moaned them . . . she meant every last one.

She'd regret it.

But Tess didn't realize that yet, and only responded greedily when L pushed a finger inside her. She tried to move against him, and Light squeezed his arms around her as he lifted her just a bit so he could see what was going on.

He probably should have explained that he didn't need to do that to females before penetrating them. But the way L watched what he was doing – his dark eyes ravenous and voraciously intent on his movements inside her – it was clear that he was very much enjoying what she felt like. As if she were one of those Sundaes he liked so much, and he was grazing his finger along the inside of the glass to lick up the last of the chocolate.

And just as it struck him what the strange boy usually did with his treats; L slid his finger from her, opened his mouth, and touched it to his tongue. Light could only observe as he closed his mouth and analyzed, like a cat who'd just lapped up the first taste of milk. Sharp features gave a grimace; but then he looked thoughtful for a moment, as if it was really not so bad and he'd just had to get used to it.

Well, that was L. He had to touch and taste and test everything before he ate or drank or used it in some way. And there wasn't a thing Light could say about it without becoming a hypocrite, thanks to the taste of 100 percent natural, home-grown _L_ still lingering on his own tongue.

Apparently satisfied with what she offered him, L moved right for the main course. He lifted the hem of his shirt this time to secure it between his teeth and out of his way – was there anything this man didn't put in his mouth? – and grabbed his erection to peel skin back and expose his crown proper for the second time.

The teenager stared at his exposed belly – all milky coloring and silky texture pulled taut over delicate framework and too-lean muscle. He wasn't sure if he would go so far as to call L beautiful; but he definitely found him appealing in an odd, unconventional sort of way. Sexy . . . there was no doubt about that, right down to the slight curving of his waist and that cute little navel that was off-limits to Light; because unlike most people who found tickling enjoyable, L just got good and kicking _angry_ when Light attempted it.

But he honestly couldn't say if his attraction to his captor was really physical, or if it was just something mental that tricked him into thinking that L was hot.

Was there a difference? Did it matter if there was?

No . . . not really.

Light felt himself tense up – like it was him instead of Tess who was about to get screwed – and he shifted both her weight and his own. L still clutched one thigh as he aligned his hips, and rubbed the glossy tip of himself along the length of pink flesh until he happened upon the right spot.

Tess squirmed and inhaled a quick breath, and then she stopped breathing altogether. Light didn't know if she was scared or preparing to bear down or what. He didn't ask, and he didn't give a damn. He'd been waiting all night for this, and he wasn't going to fail to pay attention this time around. Light was going to stand here and hold her and watch as best he could, so she'd better just shut the hell up and take it.

L shifted. He pressed in closer to them, his eyes half-closed and fixed on his effort, and then Light felt _very_ distinctly the first push.

It wasn't hard . . . just very unfamiliar to him and unexpected even though he'd known it was coming. He listened to the older man's breathing – disordered and incredibly noisy in an otherwise silent room – and felt him ease back for another advance. The next was the same, deliberate and slow as L leaned into it – using his own body weight to push himself through that first barrier.

Third was the charm. Light heard a little gasp from the detective, dashed with just a hint of wistful, low-toned voice that made him want to _do_ things just to hear more of it.

Tess let out that breath she'd been holding, and howled with it. Long and high and _not _pleased. Her fingernails cut into the tender skin at the back of Light's neck, and he could quite literally feel the muscles in her back as she tried to bear down in the cramped position they had her in.

L ignored her discomfort entirely, except to remove the hand he no longer needed to guide himself with and latch it onto her other thigh to steady both himself and her. And if her complaining bothered him, he didn't show it. He stayed right where he was, eyes glued to where their bodies joined.

When Light looked down to see too, he found himself tempted – _so_ tempted – to shove forward. Because he wanted more than anything to see L's length shiny and covered from being inside her, and he was taking his sweet time in getting there. But L beat him to it – giving another, much more powerful push that pressed Light's ass against the edge of the dresser painfully.

That was it. L had reached his _point of no return_ and in the span of a second, he became nothing more than a collection of sweaty skin, mussed hair, and harsh breathing. Any semblance of consideration he'd had for Tess vanished as he drove himself passed her body's resistance in incremental thrusts – forcing and leaning in his desperation to fill her completely and gain the ability to move freely.

Tess protested – grating, raw sounds through clenched teeth – and Light was sure that a woman more sober would have screamed _that_ word that neither of them wanted to hear. But her noises were tolerable; and Light found it particularly rousing to listen to how they changed as he watched L work himself into her. He'd go a little deeper, and she'd get a little louder. He'd ease back, and she'd exhale and whimper like a great weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Then suddenly . . . he rammed himself into her without restraint for the first good time, and froze. The material of his shirt slipped from his teeth when he opened his mouth – a thick _oh_ sound making it through that ragged breathing of his, followed by the first strangled consonant of a some unknown word he ended up swallowing. Fingers slid up Tess' thighs to seize hold of Light's hands, eyes closed, and his head tipped back gradually.

For a second, Light thought he was going to collapse backward and land unconscious on the floor. It was the way his eyes had closed – like he'd blinked too long and had fallen asleep.

But L hadn't passed out, Light realized, when he blitzed. In that _not-too-fast_, _I own this_, _make it hurt!_ way that Light had a tendency to beg for. The forceful action of it, and each ensuing thrust, jarred both Light and Tess violently. Her body pressed into his, and his body pressed against the unforgiving dresser behind him.

It stung, and was beginning to make his bones sore; but Light ignored it. Just as he ignored how difficult it was becoming to hang on to her when both her body and his hands were sweating; and the way her noises came out in short, distressed bursts that coincided with L's movements.

Honestly, Light ignored everything else going on around him except for one thing . . .

He happened to be close enough and situated in just the right way under where they joined for Light to _feel_ L against his own erection every time the detective buried himself inside the girl. It started as a tickling . . . more of a grazing caress than anything; but Light was so intensely aware of the contact that anything else seemed to pale and fall out of focus. The same spot – _every_ time – and the more he hit it, the more it burned and ceased to tickle. It wasn't as fulfilling as outright stroking, but there was a definite sensation of pleasure that coiled around him and nipped and tugged at his belly.

Light tilted his head back and stared absentmindedly at the ceiling as it jumped and blurred in his vision every split second. The smell of sex and both male and female arousal and L sweating engulfed him. He listened intently to the way L's voice shuddered unchecked from his open mouth. He could hear, too, that unmistakable dull thud of hips being shoved together, and that smacking sound of wet flesh.

It was spreading, that dampness, and Light could feel it on himself each time L brushed against him.

It would be enough. If L kept up that punishing rhythm and those deep strokes of his, Light knew he was going to come. All over those porcelain thighs and probably the jeans around his knees, too. And he wondered if L had known that when he'd positioned them like this . . . when he'd brought Light's cock into the equation?

No, of course he knew. Light should have known _that_. They were, after all, a human puzzle, and L could crack the code to any puzzle known to man. Or in this case, _of_ man.

And if he'd any doubt of that, it dissipated the minute L drove himself into Tess and paused there. She pouted vocally, and so did Light; until he felt strong fingers grabbing frantically first at his hips, and then up to his shoulders to fist the damp fabric of his shirt. Light inclined his head forward, enough to bring L's brightly flushed face into his field of vision, and was met with sable eyes that were positively _mutinous_. There was anarchy there – wild and lawless abandon – just as there was something he couldn't place. Recognition, maybe. Or solace.

No, none of those were quite right.

He gave up when L crushed himself against them, consequently relieving some of the weight the brunet had to suspend by supporting Tess' crammed up form with his upper body. He was essentially squeezing her between them, as if he could move _through_ her physical form in his effort to get to Light.

So close, he could see himself and the reflections of the mirror behind him in the glassy black of L's eyes.

"Good?" Light managed passed the thick feeling in his throat.

The detective gave a subdued nod and swallowed, almost choking on the dry panting that wouldn't stop long enough for him to reopen his throat, and took one long breath before shifting his eyes down to watch himself.

And the second L resumed his movements with close, quick thrusts . . . grinding himself into Tess' abused body, Light knew that _L_ knew exactly what he'd been doing when he'd set them up this way, because now the contact was much, _much_ more intense.

So was everything else, suddenly. L's fingernails clawed into the skin of Light's shoulders through his shirt, which brought to his attention the uncomfortable feeling of damp cotton sticking to his back, and those at the nape of his neck were just as cruel. The skin of his backside he was sure was now good and glued to the wood behind him, and he could feel beads of perspiration trickling down there, too.

Tess was strangely quiet, but for her own unrestrained breathing, and sometimes Light couldn't tell the difference between her noises, L's, or even his own now that he noticed. His hands under her knees were starting to slip, and even though he probably didn't need to hold her up anymore, Light still fought to keep his hands in place with every shock that rocked them all as a single unit.

Then L shifted again, just a tiny bit down and under her so his thighs were almost touching Light's, and slammed his hips against hers; and Light was brought right back to the potential for orgasm. Like he'd been lost in the wilderness, and suddenly had come across a path that would lead him to salvation once again.

And _oh_ . . . God. . . _fuck!_ If L stopped now, he was going to scream at the top of his lungs because – fuck_ him_ – it had picked up right where it left off.

If Tess hadn't beat him to it.

She'd had it. He could feel her shaking and desperately trying to uncurl herself from between them, and the way she shrieked out L's fake name like that was intolerably sexy. And either L hadn't been expecting the way Light knew she was squeezing him, or he couldn't handle it. He arched that lanky body of his back, snapped his head up, and half-whispered inarticulate vowels aimlessly at the ceiling as he pounded his hips against sudden resistance in a frenzy.

It was . . . the most exciting thing Light had ever experienced. And it was too much. L's voice, raw and rough, reverberating throughout the room . . . the veins and muscles Light could see straining under the sweaty, flushed skin of his throat . . . the break-neck rhythm that brought L closer and faster against his erection . . . the flat, hard packing sounds of body colliding with body, and the creak of the wood behind him that accompanied them.

It was _all_ too much.

Light threw his own head back just as his body stretched backward and locked up. A shudder whizzed down his spine, like someone dragging their fingers across piano keys, and licked into the muscles in his lower belly. He felt them contract, along with every other already strained muscle in his body, and then tension gave way to a feeling of exaltation that dispersed within him in the blink of an eye. Warmth rushed from his navel down to the tip of his cock in pleasurable waves that spiraled and flared.

They were so tangible . . . so _good_, that Light had to clench his teeth with every ounce of strength he had to keep any form of speech from leaving his mouth, because he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't drunkenly shout out something that needed not be said.

_L!_

That didn't keep him from shouting it in his head, though. Repeatedly. Until the first wave of his physical release left him, and then another – as if euphoria were a material thing being pulled from inside him, and it set fire to every single nerve it came in contact with on its way out. Light blanked as the feeling of it completely overwhelmed him and forced him to curl in on himself while relief flooded both into and out of his body.

All over L, just like he'd said he would. Except for the last little bit, that barely made it anywhere and only ended up on himself and his own pants.

Light's lungs resumed their duty not a moment later, and he gave a hard breath that seemed to recover him a lot quicker than he'd thought it would. Immediately, his restored ability to focus on anything went straight to L just as he opened and closed his mouth, like he wanted to say something but nothing would come out. He wasn't there quite yet, but he was close. Light could tell when he bit his bottom lip and breathed out an oddly low-pitched grunt.

Had he been waiting for Light?

His somewhat numb body barely registered L's left hand leaving him as the detective pulled away from them, the withdrawal so sudden it even startled Tess.

Whom Light dropped, by accident more than anything. Without L's support on the other side of her, and with his own weak and still quivering muscles, he just sort of let her droop down until he couldn't hold her anymore. She landed in a heap between them, appearing completely oblivious to anything except the carpet she haphazardly crawled along – making it only a few feet to his right before pausing, and then tipping over on her side like a tranquilized animal.

Light found himself grateful for the breathing room; because he hadn't known how many more of those thrusts, turned uncomfortable, he could have handled against himself without fraying at the edges and imploding on the spot. And now he didn't feel like he was standing in a sauna in the middle of an earthquake anymore, either.

But most importantly, he didn't have to maneuver himself around Tess anymore, and he could have L as close as he wanted. The detective didn't look like he was in a particularly lovable mood at the moment, however. He'd misjudged his timing. Terribly. Thanks to inexperience or intoxication or both, and he looked good and frustrated about it.

His right hand still had a firm hold on Light's shoulder, and he could feel in the way those fingers bit into his muscle how focused L was on the way his other hand moved still-wet skin back and forth over himself. He was quiet now too, aside from the occasional shudder when his thumb moved over his ridge a certain way.

Blaming it entirely on the afterglow of orgasm, Light reached out to encircle his left arm around L's waist and pull that torrid form toward him. He stumbled, giving the jeans around his legs a low grunt of dissatisfaction, but otherwise seemed agreeable to having himself fit against the younger boy's body at an angle conducive to the way he touched himself.

Now that L no longer had his back to the light, the brunet not only noticed where his earlier release still clung to similarly colored thighs, but he could see how shiny and wet L's foreskin was from being inside Tess. It made it easier to see through the protective covering as bony fingers manipulated it over shaft and glans, and despite the fact that he'd just gotten off, Light felt a fresh wave of arousal dance through him.

It intensified when L's hand shifted around his neck to his other shoulder to hug himself against the boy. Hot puffs of breath tingled against the sensitive area between his throat and shoulder as L nuzzled his face there, and having the man _this_ close to him while he finished himself was honestly making Light a little crazy in a distracting, unnerving sort of way.

He'd seen L get off a few times before, but _not_ while he held the man in his arms. Things between them tended to not work that way. If the situation came up for whatever reason, Light would usually watch from across the room. Even in the very beginning, before things between them had crossed _that _line, it was always a _you have your corner and I have mine_ affair. L had made no attempts at dancing around the issue in that precociously blunt way of his – they were both practical human beings, they were both men, men jerked off, and that was just the way of the world. And his logic had made perfect sense to Light, if he made an effort to see beyond his own socialization.

But pretending to sleep while he strained to listen in the quiet darkness of their sleeping quarters was infinitesimally different from having L offer it up to him on a silver platter. Despite their already established sexual relationship . . . there was something _very_ intimate and revealing about having the option of touching him and looking him right in the face while he stroked himself.

Both of which he took full advantage of, while their identities as sober people floated around somewhere far away. With soft murmuring and tender fingers under his chin, Light tipped L's head so he could see his face . . . and more specifically, his eyes.

The bastard remained true to his word this time, and made no effort to hide them from Light's scrutiny. He didn't close or avert them; he instead returned Light's gaze with hollowed black now clouded over with a craving for release.

Those eyes could affect Light like nothing else could. Whether they were eyeing him suspiciously, analyzing him coldly, or regarding him as they did now – hot and wild and paradoxically full of color – there was nothing that could enflame warmth and emotion within his half-dead soul like they could.

A problem that conveniently explained why Light felt the need to reach around L's waist and grab him by both thighs before the man could stop him and pick him up off his feet. The detective was slow to react, resulting in his hand getting caught between their bodies awkwardly. Only when he managed to work it free did he protest – flailing about like a kitten snatched up just before it could pounce.

L was _not_ used to being manhandled. By anybody. Ever. It was a huge no-no, Light knew. Doubly so considering what Light just interrupted. But when was he _ever_ going to get the recluse as piss drunk and off his game as he was now?

Before he could start biting, Light swung him around and planted him on the dresser he'd just been leaning against behind them. The sound of whatever they knocked off hitting the carpet gave him pause, just long enough to check that it hadn't been the glass he'd set there earlier. He cast a quick glance behind him too, to make sure Tess was still where she'd fallen – unconscious.

" . . . what's Light . . . doing?" monotone slurred at him, while hands vainly grabbed fistfuls of shirt at Light's chest. He ignored them to grab hold of long legs, bring them together, and lift them up. The position forced L's upper body back against the mirror behind him, his hands leaving Light to palm the dresser on either side of him. He didn't struggle, as the brunet feverishly worked jeans and boxers up his legs and tossed them in a pile to the carpet.

He looked down at the pale, slim body; watching closely that face tilted up at him as he parted legs at the knees. Light couldn't count the number of times he'd fantasized about L in this exact same position – breathless and sweaty and begging to be fucked. Of course, the begging part was absent, but everything else was in its place . . . right down to the positively scandalized expression L wore at being spread open like some lusty whore.

* * *

**Cathexis** – put simply, the energy created by one's sexual drive.


End file.
